


Thirty Pieces Of Silver

by PBJellie



Category: South Park
Genre: Accidental Incest, Age Difference, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst, Child Abandonment, Christophe/Gregory is onesided as shit, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Domestic Violence, Drug Use, Forced Prostitution, Foster Care, Gaslighting, Homelessness, Incest, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Verse, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Work, Smut, as of now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2019-09-29 17:35:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 26
Words: 93,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17207870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PBJellie/pseuds/PBJellie
Summary: At age 18, Pip aged out of the foster care system. He assumed that he'd remain with his family, even after his birthday, seeing as he was so lucky to be fostered as an Omega.When he's cast out of the house, a stranger finds him wandering the streets as he searches for his ex-boyfriend's apartment.He assumes the worst.Pip Pirrup has a habit of being lucky, but not lucky enough.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have started yet another dark ABO fic, who'd have thunk it? I'm going to go ahead and start posting this before the year, as I spend 2019 finishing all my WIPs. 
> 
> Enjoy

Just like that Pip was alone on the streets. He didn't expect it, even though he should have. 

Fostered Omegas didn't usually get to stay past 18, but he was sure they liked him; that he was part of the family. He had bought it, lapped it up with a spoon. After all, they'd rescued him from the group home when he was thirteen, and that never happened. He'd never heard of a thirteen year old Omega being taken into someone's home. No one could believe it. In fact, the other kids accused him of lying. They'd taken him, though, and told him he was one of them. 

One of the family. 

He was not part of the family, apparently. Once the checks stopped coming it was time for him to get his crap and go. 

Grumbling to himself as he walked down the road, Pip, kicked a rock. It went flying into the bike lane, left for some poor unsuspecting soul to ride over. 

That wouldn't do, he sighed. He wasn't going to hurt someone else just because he was hurt. No, he wasn't like that. He had spent his whole life striving to be a good person, and now was not the time to abandon his morals. 

He hitched his backpack with all his earthly possessions higher on his back, and went to retrieve the rock. It was the right thing to do. Right and wrong were important, his family always told him that. He tried to shake away the thoughts of how they weren't family anymore; how he didn't have a family. 

The weight of the bag pushed him forward, causing him to stumble. His knees broke his fall, getting mud and asphalt on his jeans. He could wash them, eventually. If Damien let him stay at his apartment, then he could wash them there. It was a swanky place with a washer tucked in by the dishwasher. The dryer was busted, or so he said, but he could line dry them, or hang them over the shower rod.

He tossed the rock, back onto the sidewalk, where it could be a hazard for pedestrians. There was no winning, he decided. He trudged back onto the path, backtracking to nudge the rock to the edge. It sat safely on the top of the curb, straddling the bike lane and the walkway. It was a good compromise. 

He was good at compromising, it turned out. 

He didn't know if it was a learned skill, or something he'd always know. He put his money on the first, remembering what an arsehole he'd been when he dumped Damien. He thought they weren't compatible, and he'd let his family, the one who'd abandoned him on his birthday, convince him of that he could do better. 

And maybe in an alternate universe where he wasn't walking around downtown Denver with all of his earthly possessions on his back, he could have. Maybe then he could have figured out something. 

But now, now he was traveling with everything he owned on in a backpack. He'd left somethings behind, less important items. He figured he didn't really need his heavy winter coat, not as April was turning into May. As the street lights sprung on around him, he thought maybe he'd made a bad decision. 

He'd left his toothbrush, too, or he was fairly certain he did. 

Drat. 

He hoped Damien would have a spare. Or maybe they could go in his car to the store. There was a gas station down the block, they could probably just walk, if Pip's feet didn't fall off beforehand. 

He tried to follow the streets as he remembered, but it was hard in the dark as the weather turned around him. Occasionally he'd sidestep out of the way of a homeless person begging for change, half asleep on their blanket. The first few bums he passed turned him off, but then he realized, that he was in their same position, really. He didn't have much of an advantage over them, and it'd behoove him to stop being so uppity. 

It wouldn't serve him to be uppity as he crashed on someone's couch. There was no high ground to be had, not by him. 

"It's cold," he muttered to himself, shivering in the air. April wasn't supposed to be cold, at least not late April. The snow had melted, not that they really got much to start with. It'd been a dry winter, which was nice. Snow after December was a pox. He'd have just shriveled up and died if he was born in January. He wouldn't have even bothered to go find Damien. 

By the tenth person strewn underneath a bus stop awning, the moon was high in the sky, and he was fairly certain he was lost. He wasn't sure of the address to the apartment, but he remembered that the corner store by Damien's apartment had orange and green lettering. Any time he thought that maybe he was near, he'd look around, looking for that color scheme and come up disappointed. 

He could just try to find a place to crash, somewhere covered, just in case this was one of the odd rainy nights. He didn't want to be doused, not if he was stuck wandering for the foreseeable future. 

After some debate, he decided to find his own bus stop, one where he could sleep alone. He continued in the direction he thought the apartment was in, wishing he'd had a cell phone. All the other kids his age had a phone, and he figured that eventually his family would get him one. Their kids had one, so they had to be waiting for the perfect model for him, or some discount through their cell provider. 

If he was smarter, and truthfully, he'd always been a bit afraid he wasn't smart at all, he'd have realized they weren't going to let him stay. That exclusion from family events and customs that cost money were red flags, and he should have been paying attention. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" Someone shouted, grabbing him by the shoulders. 

It turned out, that needing to pay attention was a theme in his life. 

He closed his eyes, tensing as he waited for retribution from whomever was holding him. He froze, trying not to wet himself, as he heard the steady in and out of their breathing. It smelled like an Alpha, a thick musky scent, with undertones of coffee. It wasn't repulsive, but as a tea drinker himself, it wasn't something he'd want to smell on a daily basis. 

"Well, you gonna answer? Huh? Gonna answer?" The man asked. It was a man, even if his voice was a bit high. Pip peaked through his eyelashes to catch a glimpse of the man who was holding him. It was hard to get a clear picture in the dim of the streetlights, but he had light hair and towered above him. Not that Pip was tall to start with, but something about an Alpha with his hands on his shoulders, pressing him into the sidewalk, reminded him how small he really was. 

"You too dumb to talk? Or are you just too good to talk to me? Huh? Think you're a fancy Omega who can just walk anywhere, just because you want to?" The man paused, pulling his hands off of Pip, to his relief. "You're not. You could be one of us. It could happen easier than you think. Blink of an eye, man. Blink of an eye."

Pip sniffed the air again, trying to discern his scent. It didn't smell hostile, there weren't any notes of rage, but it was muddled with body odor, of the sweat variety. He inhaled again, and decided, that this Alpha hadn't bathed in a while. 

"Tweek, let him go!" Someone shouted and Pip heard the footsteps rushing towards them. "Just because you see someone alone, doesn't mean you got to interrogate them. No one wants the third degree at one in the morning." It was one already? He hadn't noticed. He didn't have a phone to check the time. 

"He won't even talk to me, the prick," he opened his eyes as Tweek spoke, trying not to trembled as he stood before them. The other man, though smaller with short dark hair, was obviously another Alpha from the way he carried himself. "Bad things happen to lonely Omegas, ain't that right, man?" 

Pip gulped.

He'd heard this story before, from the other Omegas at the group home, the older ones. That once you were out from the protection of the state, you were fair game for whoever wanted a piece of you. He started to tremble, squeezing his eyes shut. If this Alpha was going to teach him a lesson, he might as well brace for it. 

He tried to think of something sexy, anything to get himself aroused before hand. That was a tip the older Omega's had thrown out. Be docile and don't fight it. If you can slick yourself up before hand, it'll hurt less. 

He tried to think of Damien, the few times they'd ever done anything of that nature. It'd never gotten that far, but he tried to remember that time they made out and touched each other on the outside of their jeans. Damien had told him to stop, that he was older, a freshman in college while Pip was a sophomore in high school, and it wasn't right. 

God, his first time was going to be with this blonde Alpha and the smaller one next to him. He yelped out, pulling his hands over his closed eyes. 

"When you say it like that," the other Alpha interjected, "it sounds like a threat. And I know you aren't gonna hurt him, and you know that, but he don't know that." 

"Just trying to warn him, Christ," Tweek, the tall blonde, though he doubted that was his name, threw his hands in the air. "I'm trying to be an upstanding citizen!" 

"You're obviously scaring the shit out of him," the other said. Pip peeked through his fingers to see the shorter one shoving his friend. "Look at him, he's just a little kid. He's probably lost or something stupid." 

"I'm not fucking scary, ass wipe," Tweek, that couldn't be his name, not really, shot back, flipping him off. "Hey, you!" He shouted, grabbing Pip by the shoulders again. Pip stood silently, hands covering his face, shoring up the cracks so he couldn't see. He didn't want to see what was about to happen to him, he didn't think. 

"He's scared," the other one laughed. Why was he laughing about this? What part of his fear was funny? 

"Why the fuck is he scared?" Tweek asked, shaking him a bit. "Hey! You! Tell me why you're scared!" 

Pip mumbled something in response, and yelped when he was shaken harder. 

"That's not an answer!" Tweek yelled. Pip noticed that his friend had stopped laughing, though he didn't dare look at the scene unfolding. It was terrifying enough to have to smell, hear, and feel it. He thought that surely having to see it would send him over the brink. "Give me an answer, man!" 

"Dude, he's gonna piss himself," the other one said. He could feel another pair of hands on his shoulders, removing Tweek's hands, with some difficulty. "Hey, hey," he cooed, but the sound was away from him. He didn't have to open his eyes to know that the comfort wasn't directed at him. 

"What?" Tweek sounded upset. Why was he the one in need of consolation? He hadn't just been shaken by a stranger. "What did I do, man?" 

"You can't just go doing that to people," his friend said. He could hear a wet sound, the kind of sound that his parents, or the people who were his parents up until this morning, had made when they kissed. He snuck in a look, to see the shorter on up on his tiptoes, arms around Tweek's waist, planting what appeared to be a kiss on his lips. 

"What is happening?" Pip asked aloud, confused. 

"Oh, now he wants to talk!" Tweek pulled away, turning to face him. "Why wouldn't you answer my questions before, punk!" 

Pip shook his head, regretting that he'd said anything at all. 

"Hush, babe," the shorter one, the one Pip was fairly certain was an Alpha, said. He wasn't so sure he wasn't a Beta, but he was sure he wasn't an Omega. He wasn't Tweek's mate, there was no way. He glanced at their necks, taking a step backwards. They both had bite marks, and they were kissing. Were they cheating on their partners? 

"He's rude," Tweek crossed his arms, snarling at him. Pip took a few steps back, sure that he was about to be attacked by him. He obviously wasn't well. He wasn't well adjusted, not at all. He kept backing away, until he hit a brick wall of a building. 

The two of them walked closer, the short one casting him an understanding smile, like he was sorry for what was about to happen to him. Tweek looked wild, like a caged animal about to lash out at him, licking his chops as he crept into his personal space. 

"I bet he's scared because you keep yelling at him," the short one said, rolling his eyes and throwing his hands in the air as Tweek grabbed Pip by the collar. 

"Please, don't!" Pip yelped, muscles freezing in place. He'd learned once, in a specialty defense class they took in gym, that if an Alpha ever had a hold of you and you needed to get away, you could try to kick him in the nuts. He always thought he'd be able to do it if the time came, but that was not the case. 

When the time came, turns out he'd just pee his pants in fear. 

"Oh," Tweek, the one holding him, said, pulling him closer. The stickiness of his jeans was uncomfortable, but not as unbearable as the lack of distance between the two of them. "Piss? That's pretty gross." 

"Sorry," he choked out. 

"Yeah, I'd be sorry, too, if I did something like that," Tweek laughed, still holding his shirt. 

"Let him go," the shorter one said.

"Huh?" Tweek asked, pulling his hands up, still clenched on Pip's shirt, and by relation, Pip's body as he looked back, confused. Pip's feet dangled off the ground as his head started to slide away from the fabric. Before Tweek could put him down, he'd slid down onto the sidewalk, landing the wrong way on his ankle, and collapsing onto the concrete. He didn't cry out in pain, he just used his arms to cover his naked torso. 

Damien was the only Alpha to ever see him in this state of undress, and it'd only been the one time. 

"Step back," the short one said, pushing Tweek out of the way to get a closer look at Pip. He knelt down on the ground, and Pip inhaled. The short one was definitely an Alpha, his scent less muddied with body odor. He smelled sweet, like candy floss, as he leaned closer. "You hurt?" 

Pip couldn't find the courage to say anything, so he just nodded. His eyes were blown open wide as Craig surveyed him. He wasn't sure what was going to happen to him from this point. If he couldn't walk on his ankle, what was he going to do? His whole plan hinged on him being able to walk to Damien's apartment. If he couldn't walk, then he couldn't find the apartment, which meant he would be stuck outside this building for the foreseeable future. 

"Where?" He asked, placing his hand on Pip's shoulder. It was a different kind of touch than Tweek, less hostile, less forceful. It felt more like when his dad would reassure him. Wait, that wasn't his dad now. He didn't have a family. 

If he was stuck here, outside in the cold, no one would even be looking for him. He let out a small cry, muffled by the way he bit his lip as tears streamed down his face. The class had said that sometimes, if you made yourself pathetic enough in front of a hostile Alpha they'd lose interest and leave you alone. He hoped peeing his pants and breaking into tears in front of them would be enough. 

"Hey, dude, look at me," he urged. Pip shook his head, looking down at the small piece of concrete between his legs. 

"Look at him!" Tweek commanded. Pip's eyes shot up to see Craig's face contorted into something that looked like regret. At least he was going to feel bad about whatever they were going to do to him. 

"That's not helping," the short one grumbled, maintaining the eye contact. They were a nice steely grey color, duller than his own, but different from Damien's brown eyes. He'd never looked at another Alpha like this before. 

"I'm trying, Craig!" Tweek threw his hands in the air, and stormed up close to them. "He's not even talking for you, at least he's saying stuff when I ask him to."

"You're not asking him," Craig spat. "You're telling him, and Omega's are gonna do whatever you tell them. That's just how they are."

"How am I supposed to know that? It's not like they flock to me, man! I don't need 'em, anyways." Tweek crossed his arms, and glared at Pip. 

"I'm telling you, so now you know," Craig grumbled, looking back at Pip, who was still in tears. He couldn't believe this was how he was spending the day of his 18th birthday. Wait, if it was one o'clock, his birthday was over. That was a relief, at least. His worst birthday down in the books. No other birthday could top this, that was for certain. 

"Well if Omega's are so goddamn sensitive, why is he out all alone?" Tweek asked, leaning forward into Pip's personal space again. "Why's his ankle all swollen?" He put his fingers on it, the one he'd fallen on, and pressed. Pip screamed, trying to yank himself away, only to bash his head into the wall. 

"That's where you're hurt?" Craig asked, standing up as Tweek continued to look him over. His shirt was still in his grasp. It was too cold to be naked. He shivered, trying to hold back the tears that continued to fall. This was no way to step into adulthood. He nodded, to answer Craig's question. 

"Looks bad," Tweek said, ghosting his hand over it again. "I'm not gonna press it," he laughed as Pip flinched. "What should we do?" 

"Take him home," Craig said, after exhaling through his nose.

Pip whimpered in pain. How did he explain to these men that he didn't have a home to go back to? He didn't really know where his exs apartment was. It'd been two years. He wasn't even sure if he'd be welcome there, but he had to go somewhere.

"Aren't we supposed to go get cans? I thought we were going to get some so we could have burgers. You said we'd have burgers," Tweek sounded a lot like a petulant child. His little brother, ex little brother, had sounded like that when it looked like things weren't going to go his way. 

"We were," Craig said, looking down at Pip's ankle again. He pulled his mouth back as he looked at it, as if he was in pain. He wasn't the one with the busted ankle. He wasn't the one at the mercy of two strangers. "But now, we're gonna be good citizens and take care of this kid." 

"Fine," Tweek huffed. "Fine, because we have to be good citizens." 

"Yeah, that's right," Craig grumbled, groaning as he surveyed the situation. "So pick him up." 

"What?" Pip squeaked out. He wasn't comfortable being carried by the blonde one. He wasn't sure that he wasn't a threat. They both could be threats. Damien always said he had a terrible sense about those kinds of things. 

"We're taking you home, where do you live?" Tweek said, scooping him into his arms like he was weightless. "Are you slow?" 

"No?" Pip didn't mean for it to be a question, but he wasn't sure how to respond. He didn't have a home. 

"Slow people don't think they're slow," Tweek laughed, holding him close to his chest. His scent was coffee, which was strange. He'd never met anyone whose natural scent was so unique, it was usually hard to name, elusive, but this was very clearly, coffee. "Just like how crazy people don't think they're crazy." 

"Bullshit," Craig called out from behind as Pip trembled in the cold, his shirt who knows where. "You know damn well you're fucking nuts." 

"Which means I ain't." He laughed harder, jiggling Pip against his chest. "He smells pretty okay, though not as good as a burger would. Where are we taking you?" 

"Shut up about the burger, dude," Craig groaned. "We don't have money, so we aren't getting nothing. Next time, maybe don't grab some stray kid."

"Hey, kid, where are we going?" Tweek asked, loudly, right in Pip's ear. He flinched, fighting his natural urge to free himself from Tweek's arms and run far away. He couldn't run; he wasn't capable. He had no way to get away from these Alphas. He was stuck doing whatever it was they wanted. 

He hoped they didn't kill him, though he feared they might, after they got what they wanted. He'd seen their faces, which was a big no-no, apparently. He was going to die for looking into that Alpha's eyes. He gulped, trying to imagine something happy before he died. 

He pictured England, where he lived with his mom, before she'd sent him on an airplane to live with his father at age six. He hadn't even shown up at the airport. He sat in baggage pick up, waiting for his dad to come get him. He'd never met the man, but his mom had said he was a great guy. He lived in America and one day he'd live with him. He didn't even have a picture to help find him, but he hoped they looked alike.

This wasn't a happy memory, not at all. He cried in the Alpha's arms. Was this the last thing he was going to remember? He didn't want the last thing he reminisced about to be being alone at the airport as a kid; the moment he realized his dad wasn't coming. 

After two days of sitting in baggage claim in the same clothes, alone, someone who worked there, a lady in a blue skirt that hugged her knees, realized he'd been there for too long. She came up to him, his face tear stained, and asked where his mom was. All he could tell her was she was in England and his dad was supposed to pick him up. 

"Answer me!" The man holding him shook him out of the terrible memory. "Stop crying like a baby and tell me!" 

Pip sobbed, unwilling to look anywhere but the dull green of Tweek's shirt. He liked green, it was a nice color. At least this color was nice. 

"If he's too good to talk to us, then I'm gonna leave him here and we can get burgers," Tweek grumbled. Before Pip could process the words, he felt his ass hit the concrete, and heard their continuing footsteps. Luckily, he didn't fall with all of his weight on his ankle, again, but it throbbed like the rest of his body.

"Fuck, Tweek," Craig sighed. Pip looked up to see him looking back, face twisting uncomfortably. He watched Craig turn around as Tweek kept walking forward, and scoop him into his arms. "I gotcha, it's okay. Just tell us where you live. Do you know where you live?" 

Pip didn't know what part of this was okay. It didn't feel okay. He continued to cry as Craig rushed forward. Once they were side by side with Tweek, his running stopped. He shook his head. No, he didn't know where he lived. Well he knew that he lived nowhere, but pretending not to know felt better. If they knew he wasn't someone that'd be missed, they might do worse things to him.

"I don't want to take him; he's rude," Tweek huffed. 

"He's not rude. He's just batshit terrified," Craig said, voice steady. "Kid probably thinks we're gonna rape and murder him, thanks to you."

"I didn't do anything!" Tweek screeched. "I didn't do anything to him at all! Everyone always thinks I'm the instigator, but I'm not! I didn't do anything to him and he's crying like I hurt him." 

"Dude, I think you broke his ankle." 

"That was his fault! If he listened to me, then none of this would have happened to him. He was disrespectful. Bad shit happens when you're a dick to strangers, Craig! Bad things!" 

Pip whimpered as Craig put him back on the ground. It was a much softer landing, and didn't hurt except for the jostling of his ankle. They were going to leave him here. He was safe. Tweek had given away too much of their plan, and now Pip was safe. It was a miracle. 

Even if he didn't really believe in those, anymore. Anytime he let himself have something happy to cling to, it was just ripped away. He couldn't afford to keep dashing his morale like that, so when he saw the backs of their shirts in the distance, he tried not to get his hopes too high. 

He grounded himself in the reality of the situation. He couldn't walk because of his ankle, and he didn't have a shirt. That was okay, the shirt bit, not the ankle. He had his bag, and he packed a spare set of clothes. He could just put on the spare, and wait until morning. In the light of day, surely someone would help him. 

He felt behind him for his bag, and it was gone. Tweek must have taken it with his shirt. Everything he owned was in that bag, including his wallet. He didn't have a lot of money, but he had a little, a few hundred dollars from a summer job selling snow cones. 

He was screwed. 

And this sort of thing was why he didn't believe in miracles. 

He shivered as he wrapped his arms around himself, and pushed himself towards the edge of the sidewalk. He winced when he had to move his ankle, but he couldn't sit in the middle of the walkway; he'd be an inconvenience. He'd spent so much of his life being an inconvenience that he was good at minimizing it. Sure, it was annoying to have him sprawled out against the wall to this building. He looked back to see what building he was against, a deli, but it wasn't as bad as him blocking the whole sidewalk. 

The wall was rough against his back, scrapping at his skin when ever he tried to adjust himself to get comfortable. After a few minutes, he decided to just lay down. The concrete was cold, but smoother than the wall, at least a little. Maybe he could get some sleep, and in the morning he'd be woken up to the surprise of someone rescuing him. 

That'd be a good surprise, he decided. If it happened, he'd let that be his birthday surprise, not being kicked out of the house. It was easier to find things to be grateful for in his life than to focus on the bad parts. If someone found him, then that'd be cause to celebrate. 


	2. Chapter 2

"You have got to be shitting me," a female voice called out. Pip didn't think he had slept, but maybe he was wrong. He opened his eyes to see that it was, in fact, still dark outside. He squinted, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dim streetlights, to see a blonde woman, breasts partially exposed in a halter top, walking towards him.

And two men behind her.

"I'm not," that nasally voice was Craig. Tweek and Craig had come back. They were going to kill him after all. He started to cry, pressing his face into the concrete.

"I can't carry him," she said, her words short and snipped. "I don't know why you brought me here. I have to work, you idiots."

"Well, I can't carry him and keep a handle on Tweek." He could smell Craig as someone put their arms around his torso. His hands were warm, which was nice. It was cold, too cold outside to be shirtless. At least he'd have this one last nice sensation before he died. Warm hands on his cold body.

"I don't need to be minded, ass wipe."

"You broke his fucking ankle," Craig said. Something warmed draped over his body, a coat? Who had gave up their coat?

"He did that to himself," Tweek spat. "I don't know why I even share a tent with you."

"Because Craig is the only one willing," the girl teased. "Because otherwise you'd have to buy your own tent, and you're shit with money."

Were they going camping? It was probably easier to get away with killing an Omega in the woods. Harder to find the body. Not that anyone was going to be looking for his body. No one would even know he was dead until animals had eaten his corpse.

"Jesus," he whispered under his breathe, trembling into Craig.

"I am not," Tweek grumbled as they started to move. "And no one asked you, asshole." Someone, probably Tweek, swatted at him, landing a hit on his back. It hurt, but not as bad as his ankle did. He tried not to cry out. Instead, he inhaled the sweet scent from Craig's chest, and tried to will himself to calm down.

"Stop doing shit like that to him, he's obviously fucking traumatized," the girl said.

"All I wanted, was to get a burger from McDonald's. That's it. Why can't I?" Tweek was pouting. He seemed old enough to know better than to behave this way, but Pip wasn't sure. Maybe they were all college students, and Tweek just looked older. He seemed to be pushing thirty, while Craig and the girl seemed closer to their early twenties. It was harder to tell with girls.

"Because this kids hurt. You can't just leave a kid Omega alone, asshole," the girl snapped, and he heard something, maybe a purse, connect with something else solid. He peeked open his eyes to see Tweek rubbing his shoulder. "Bad things could happen to him."

"No one gives a shit if bad things happen to us," Tweek grumbled, arm still on his shoulder.

"That's not true," Pip said softly. That wasn't true about anyone, except maybe himself. Even then, he liked to believe that someone cared about him, and someone would miss him. He needed to make himself sound like he had a bunch of people, like they'd for sure know if he didn't come back. "Everyone has someone."

"Bullshit," Craig blew air threw his nose in a huff. "Kid, I know you've got some rose tinted glasses bullshit, but no, in fact, no one cares about our existence."

"God, why are you two always like this?" The girl asked. "The world isn't awful as you like to think it is."

"It's pretty awful, actually," Craig said, sounding disinterested.

"Yeah, we sleep in a tent, man," Tweek agreed. "This kid's probably got a warm bed with his mommy and daddy to go back to. Why the fuck are we helping him? We could be getting burgers."

"You sleep in a tent?" Pip repeated the phrase, perking his head up enough to see his surroundings. They were walking away from town. Away from the city lights and the prying eyes, where they could just get the job done quick. He sort of hoped they'd kill him first.

"Yeah, fuckwad," Tweek groaned. "And I guess, since Craig is a stupid bleeding heart, tonight you're gonna sleep in one, too." Tweek paused as Pip looked at him, trying to piece together what he had just said. "Wait, whose tent is he sleeping in?"

"Yours," the girl said.

"That's not fair, Bebe," Tweek whined as they turned onto a road without sidewalks. "You've got a tent to yourself."

"I didn't break his ankle," she countered.

They walked in silence for a few minutes as Pip tried to figure out what had just been said. Why on earth would you want to camp in this weather? It was still too cold out to be enjoyable. He'd only camped a handful of times, with a foster kids only Boy Scout troop, and he hadn't much cared for it when it was warm. He could only imagine when it was cold.

They had weird hobbies.

"I still want a burger," Tweek complained after a long stretch of quiet.

"People in hell want ice water," Craig said, shifting Pip in his arms. "Kid's not heavy, not really, but I need you to hold him, Tweek. Give me a break."

"Look, a McDonald's!" Tweek said, pointing forward and making no move to help Craig. "Come on, let's eat. I'm so hungry. I'll starve to death, man. And that'll be all on you. It will. And I'll haunt the shit out of you. Don't think I won't."

"We don't have any money," Craig sighed. "If we had money, we wouldn't have been looking for scrap metal downtown." Why would you look for metal? That didn't seem like a very good way to make money. He had a few hundred bucks, and maybe spending some of it would ensure his safety. Or at least ensure that would live through the night.

"I have money," Pip offered, looking at their faces. Both of the men lit up, while Bebe, the girl, just rolled her eyes.

"I just want a cheeseburger, man. They're like a dollar and I just really want one."

"Are you really gonna feed us?" Craig asked. "Like you're not gonna get in trouble with your parents, are you?"

A laugh snuck out of Pip before he could really understand what was happening.

"Are you like rich?" Tweek asked, taking him from Craig's arms. "Don't look at me like that," he glared at Craig, then looked back down at Pip. "If he's rich maybe we could get a hotel room, or at least on at a motel."

"If he was rich, he'd have called the cops on his cell by now," Bebe snorted, reaching into her bra and pulling out a sleek phone. He couldn't see if the screen was cracked from his position, but she had a case that was black and pink, with zebra stripes. He quiet liked it.

"It's weird he doesn't have a phone," Craig said, shaking his arms as they kept walking toward the golden arches in the distance.

"Nah, we don't have a phone, man," Tweek shrugged. "I want extra pickles, do you think they'll get it right? I hope so. If they don't, can I have your pickles?"

"Dude," Craig stopped, looking over to Pip. "Why don't you have a phone? Any good parent would make sure their fifteen year old kid had a phone if they were going somewhere in the middle of the night." He paused, looking him up and down. "Why were you out alone?"

They thought he was fifteen, Jesus. He knew he looked young, but he didn't think he looked that young.

"I'm not," he started, as both men stared at him. "I'm not fifteen." That was the easiest misnomer to dispel, but that didn't answer all of their questions. Should he answer them? If he told him he didn't have people, they'd think they could get away with whatever they wanted. He saw it on television. He didn't want to be hurt.

"Tell the truth or we drop you right here," Craig said, motioning for Tweek to stop walking.

"I want my burger," Tweek glared. "I don't care if he's a runaway, or whatever, man. I just want to eat."

"It's a crime to help a runaway," Craig said, making eye contact with Pip. "I'm not going to jail again, not for your stupid ass, okay?"

"What?" Pip asked. This man had been to jail before? Why was he sharing that information?

"Yeah, it's a crime, dumbfuck. So am I committing a crime right now?"

"No?" What kind of question was that? He looked so angry, like he was ready to pull him out of Tweek's arms and throttle him. "I'm eighteen, I'm an adult, I guess."

"No way," Tweek laughed. "You're not eighteen."

"I am!" Pip frowned. No one ever believed him. He looked at the backpack on Craig's shoulders, his backpack. He didn't want to be separated from his only change of clothes. Not when his other shirt was missing. Maybe they were going to keep it as a trophy. "My wallet is in my bag," he said. "I have an ID."

"Well I'm gonna check it," Craig huffed, swinging the bag around and riffling through it. "I see school books," he said, pointedly. "That's something a teenager would have. We can't take a runaway any further, guys. I'm not getting busted for something so stupid."

"Check the ID!" Pip shouted. He had no idea where he was, and he was sure he couldn't walk. "I'm a senior. I'm just about to graduate," in like two months. It was close though, if he found away to get to and from school from Damien's apartment.

If he could ever find Damien's apartment.

Craig pulled out the cheap billfold he'd bought at Walmart. He'd paid for it himself, and he was proud of that bit, at least. It was a dull blue, with Velcro on the side to keep it closed. He watched as Craig examined the ID, and frowned.

"It's your birthday," Craig said, slowly. "Did you go to a party? Are you drunk?"

"Oh, what's his name?" Tweek asked, getting onto his tiptoes with Pip still in his arms.

"Phillip," Craig said. Pip laughed. "Is this fake? Is it a fake ID?"

"No, no," Pip said, straightening up his face. These guys didn't seem like they were going to kill him and the girl didn't even seem to care that he existed. "Everyone calls me, Pip."

"Oh, okay," Craig said, taking out the ID and holding it up to the moon. He checked it, turning it over in his hands, and looking at Pip. "Why were you out at night, alone? You know you're an Omega, right?"

"Sex Ed in schools is bad," Bebe snorted, "but it's not that bad."

"I know," he said, looking at Craig. He seemed nice, even though he'd been to jail, apparently. "I'm, uh, I'm looking for my ex-boyfriend's apartment. I was hoping I could stay with him."

"That's dumb," Bebe said, looking up from her phone. Her nails were manicured a shiny red and made a tapping noise whenever she typed. "Why would he let you stay with him? Just go home to your parents, trust me. It's better to just live at home."

"Nuh-uh," Tweek shouted, shaking his head. "It's better to eat burgers. And also, fuck parents. They suck."

"Tweek, hush," Bebe chastised, as Pip started to sniffle. God, why would he let him stay there? Why? They weren't even dating.

"I guess you can just kill me, then." Pip said, letting his shoulders sink down.

"Who the fuck is gonna kill you?" Tweek asked, spinning in a circle so he could search the perimeter. "I'm not ready to die, man."

"He thinks we're gonna kill him," Craig grumbled, running his hands over his face. "Probably because of you yelling at him."

"Why would we kill him?" Tweek asked, looking down at Pip with a frown. He stared for a few minutes, before setting him down on the grass. It was gentler than the last time, but he felt a swell of panic as Tweek started to walk away. "I don't want a burger from someone who thinks I'm a murderer, man."

"Cut it out," Craig said to Tweek, while kneeling down to look at Pip, who had once again, started to cry. "He's a kid."

"He's eighteen," Tweek mocked, making his voice too high and shaking his hips as he walked down the road. "He thinks that just because we're homeless we're bad people. We don't have to help people like that. They have to be nice to us for us to be good citizens. You said."

"You're homeless?" Pip asked, gnawing on his lip as he continued to cry.

"You didn't even fucking know that?" Craig laughed. "Did you think we just liked camping? Like we were nature enthusiasts, or tree huggers, or some bullshit?" Pip nodded through the tears. He didn't know what he thought, but he didn't think they were homeless.

He didn't think they were the same.

"God, you reek of urine," Craig shook his head as he leaned in closer to Pip. "Why were you out tonight? I'm not going to tell if you did drugs, or something stupid like that. We're take you home in the morning, I bet your folks are worried sick. Maybe you can call them on Bebe's phone. Let them know you're okay. Or have them come get you tonight."

"No," he whimpered. "I don't live with them, anymore."

"Okay, well where do you live?" Bebe asked. "I've got Google Maps, we can bring you home."

"We're not taking him anywhere!" Tweek yelled from down the road. "He thinks he's better than us! Stop helping him!"

"Shut the fuck up, Tweek," Craig growled.

"I'm going back without you," Tweek taunted. "I'm gonna put your blankets outside and leave them there so the dew gets all over them!"

"No, you're not," Craig warned, turning his body to look in his direction. "Because if your crazy ass does that, you won't have a boyfriend, or a tent! I doubt you want to sleep rough in April, fuckwad!"

"Ugh, fine," Tweek shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. "I'm going though," and with that he bolted down the road. Pip followed his figure as best he could in the dim light, until he couldn't see him anymore. Did he hear that they were boyfriends correctly?

"So," Craig turned back to Pip, looking cautiously at his ankle. It didn't hurt too bad, so maybe it wasn't broken, just a sprain. "Where do you live? We're not gonna hurt you, promise."

"I don't," Pip said, trying to think through his sentence.

"You don't what?" Craig asked.

"I don't," he repeated. Craig looked back at Bebe, who looked up from her phone with an exasperated sigh.

"He's trying to tell you he's homeless, idiot," she looked back down clicking her tongue as she scrolled her finger along the screen. "Alphas and Omegas, fuck."

"Are you homeless?" Craig asked, shock coloring his face. "What the fuck happened? You're eighteen, that seems weird."

"They're not my parents anymore. I aged out."

"Like Thomas," Bebe rolled her eyes, eyes glued to her phone. "It's the same foster kid bullshit, where they just turn them out and hope for the best. Look at him," she said gesturing without actually look, "he's helpless."

"Oh," Craig said, and then he repeated it. "Fuck, well I guess you can come sleep at the camp, with everyone else. There's a bunch of us, but I think you and Thomas are the only Omegas." He reached down, and grabbed Pip again. "Fuck, that's rough. Happy birthday, I guess."

"Thanks," Pip said, wiping at his face. He'd expected when he woke up that maybe they're be cake. He didn't even care what kind of cake, just something. Something to celebrate his birthday, but instead his family, no they weren't that anymore, his foster family, they were gathered around the table. When he said good morning, they told him to pack up his things, only his things, not the ones they'd bought him, and leave.

They'd bought most of his clothes, so they stayed. Maybe they'd get a new foster that was his size, and they'd reuse them, he didn't know. They'd bought his sneakers, too, but he took them, anyways. They were at least two years old, and he'd fixed them with duct tape and super glue, they weren't reusable. They were barely usable.

"We better at least get him a burger, or he's gonna throw a fit all night," Bebe said as they started walking again.

"I'm not using his money," Craig said. "It'd be wrong."

"Why not? He'll get more. Set the kid out like they do Thomas, and he'll bring in loads. His ankle is all fucked up, who wouldn't give money to a hurt Omega?"

"What?" Pip asked, as the continued talking over him.

"First, that's fucked up. Second, Kenny or Butters have to babysit him the whole time to make sure Alphas pay. And Thomas is street smart, Pip literally peed his pants because he was afraid of Tweek."

Pip didn't understand what they were talking about. They were going to take him back to their camp? Permanently? Was it a one night only sort of thing? He didn't want to be left alone on the street, again. If his encounter with Tweek, someone who hadn't meant to hurt him, ended with his ankle being all screwed up, he didn't want to risk it with someone else.

"I mean, it's not like you have work until it's warmer, anyways," Bebe said. Craig worked? If he worked, why was he homeless? Homeless people didn't work, did they? He'd only seen them begging for money, and he'd certainly never seen a homeless person with a phone.

"I'm not doing that to him," Craig huffed as they reached the McDonald's. "If Tweek doesn't get a burger, he'll probably try to haze the shit out of him. Remember what he did to Stan?"

"You mean taking a pocketknife to all his underwear? Or tying his shoes together and tossing them into a tree? Or are you talking about the time he poured a bucket of water from the ditch on him while he slept? I'm sure there's lots I'm not remembering."

Jesus Christ, Tweek sounded terrifying. What did Stan do to him? Had Pip already angered him?

"I'll buy him a burger," Pip said. Hell, he'd buy him two to avoid that.

"He's not well," Craig said. "Not to make excuses, but he's ill."

"He's fucking psycho," Bebe said. "Like not Eric level crazy, but still fucking crazy, Craig. I don't know why you hitched your horse to that wagon."

"He's a good guy," Craig grumbled. "Fuck, Bebe just buy him a damn burger," he huffed. "I know you have fucking money. You called an Uber when you left tonight."

"Damn it, Craig. Why do I always have to clean up your mess? You didn't even ask permission before telling the kid he could stay with us."

"Okay Ms. Nineteen," Craig snorted. "He's a kid and you're a kid. And I doubt he's gonna be a problem." Pip pulled whatever jacket was on him tighter. It was cold. How did they sleep in the cold? Did they have space heaters? It was too cold to be outside. "Everyone's got a soft spot for kids."

"At least I'm not fucking a grandpa like your boyfriend," Bebe shrugged, nails clicking against the glass of her phone again.

"He's thirty-five," Craig deadpanned as they walked into the drive thru line for McDonald's. "And I'm twenty four, it's not weird."

Craig didn't look twenty four, and Bebe didn't look nineteen. He listened intently as Bebe and Craig argued with woman behind the speaker box, asking for a burger with extra pickles while she demanded they get out of the drive thru. She claimed she couldn't serve them due to safety reasons, but after a few minutes of arguing she let them through. It wasn't like anyone was in the line.

It would be just his luck to get hit by a car. And if that's how this hellish experience was going to wrap up, then so be it.

Bebe paid, without too much complaint. As stuffed bills back into her purse, she let Craig know that he owed her one. Pip had a feeling that he always owed her one.

The person handing over the food wouldn't even look at them; he just thrust the bag out the window for Bebe to grab. It seemed like he would have dropped it right onto the ground if she wasn't prepared.

They continued walking, the bag closed tightly in her free hand as she buried her face back into her phone. They weren't talking to him, not really. He didn't know how to start conversation. What sort of thing did homeless people talk about? He should know, right? He was homeless.

Bebe and Craig just seemed normal, like people he could run into on the street. Did Bebe have a job, too? She had a phone, so she had to have money. With someone like Tweek it was easy to tell that something was off, even if he hadn't picked up on exactly what it was immediately. If someone told him that Tweek was homeless, he'd believe them.

Did he seem like Tweek, or did he seem like Craig and Bebe? He didn't know how to ask that question. Maybe it was one he wasn't supposed to ask. He inhaled against Craig's chest, breathing in his scent. It was a good smell, now that he knew that it was going to be some variation of okay.

Craig wasn't going to hurt him, he didn't think. And if he did, he wasn't going to murder him. He left himself drift off to the steady sounds of footfall, partnered with the tap of nails on a phone screen, and even breathing. It was safe, he was safe. 

Even if it was only for this minute.


	3. Chapter 3

"We didn't give you permission to bring back anyone," a fat man sneered, looking at the bag in Bebe's manicured hands. It was greasy at the bottom, with the top crumpled. He licked his lips, his tongue swiping along a brown mustache. 

"Yeah, don't bring him fucking here," Tweek poked his head out of a tent in a circle. They weren't a perfect circle, but the five tents he counted were surrounding an old picnic table. He looked around the dark area, where one light buzzed overhead attached to an old power line. 

They seemed nice. Well, four out of the five, seemed nice.

One of them just seemed to be sheets hobbled together with sticks, but for the most part, they looked like the kind you'd find at the average camp site. He didn't know when he'd lost control of his life to the point where he desperately wanted to stay in this tent city, but he was there. 

This seemed much better than sleeping at a bus stop. There were people here, and they seemed nice. Well, Bebe and Craig seemed nice, and maybe Tweek could be convinced.

"Is that-" Tweek made eye contact with Bebe, then peeled out of the tent, stumbling as he rushed to her side. He ripped the bag out of her hands, pulling out a singular cheeseburger, which at this point had to be cold. If it was cold, he didn't complain. Through a mouth full of food, a bit of cheese stuck to his teeth, he smiled at Craig, and then at Pip. 

"Don't be such a hard ass, Fartman," Tweek said, snorting as he polished off the last bite. He ate it so fast that he couldn't have really tasted it. He seemed satiated, a smile spread across his face. 

"Well, where is he going to sleep? He seems like a queer; I ain't sharing a tent with a queer."

"He can sleep with us, I guess. " Tweek shrugged, wadding up the brown paper bag and tossing it on top of the picnic table. "But I want a cheeseburger, at least once a week. And he's not, he's an Omega." 

"In that case, I want him," the fat one said, waddling towards them. Craig gripped him a little tighter, and let out a growl. It was guttural noise, that made something in Pip shift. He turned into Craig's shirt, brushing it against his face.

God, was that slick he felt trailing down his legs? 

"Back the fuck up," Craig growled. He could smell the sugary sweet scent of Craig, and a faint note of coffee. Tweek wasn't clear enough to smell, it was just him lingering on Craig's clothes.

"We don't have to let you stay with us, Eric" Bebe stepped between the two of them. Pip didn't want to be caught up in a fight between two- no, three Alphas. 

He hated the reaction his body was having to this situation. It was inconvenient to get an erection as Tweek rushed over, shoving Craig out of the way with a snarl. Pip didn't even know what part of this his brain could possibly think this was sexy. 

At least his underwear were already wet from the pee. It was good that no one beside himself could tell that some of it was slick. It was probably more slick than piss, at this point. 

"I swear to Christ, you don't let no one get no sleep," a scruffy man wearing a dull coat that was a brown, or maybe once orange underneath the layers of dirt, said. He slurred his speech as he spoke, stumbling out of a tent. 

"Shut your white trash mouth, poor boy," the fat man said, spinning around to glare. He seemed to spend a lot of his time glaring. He also made big emphatic movements for someone so large, like he was trying to draw more attention to himself. 

"A'ight, a'ight," he laughed, making his way towards Craig. "Whose the kid? You taking another mate, queer bait?"

"No, he's not," Tweek cut in, pushing Pip onto the ground. He fell on his butt, managing to not further injure himself. The coat fell with him, and he scrambled to put his arms through the sleeves. It was way too big, but it was much warmer than his bare chest. "We're mates and you can fuck off." 

"Then why the fuck is he here?" The fat one asked. "If you're not gonna bone, why bother dragging back a stray?" 

"Oh, shit, he's an Omega," the one in the jacket said, sniffing the air near him. "He seems horny as fuck, too." 

How did he know that? Pip pulled himself into a sitting position, covering his face with his hands. 

"I mean, I'd fuck him," the one in the jacket laughed. "But seriously, why's he here? Are you given him to me? I'll give you a finder's fee." 

Pip had an idea of what the fee was for, and as the man walked forward, leaning down to run a hand across his glands, he flinched. He kept touching, like he was sizing up a dog for a show.

"He, uh," Craig let out a snort of a laugh when Tweek pressed into him. "Cut it out," he said with a smile. Craig didn't seem like a guy who smiled a lot, but whenever Tweek did something dumb or affectionate, it didn't seem like he could help it. "I love you, but chill. I don't want to bang Pip, so chill."

"Disgusting," the fat one said, creeping towards Pip as the man continued to feel, "you two fags be queer in your tent." 

"I can bend him over the table right here if I want to, fatass," Tweek sneered, dramatically kissing Craig for good measure as he squeezed his ass with both hands. 

"And I'd love to see that," the one touching him said, raising his eyebrows, "but, I'm just wondering why you two brought back an unclaimed Omega? I'll give you five hundred dollars." 

"He's a kid," Craig said with a shrug, keeping his eyes on Tweek. Pip didn't have five hundred dollars, but he was pretty sure that anyone living in a tent would want that kind of money. 

"We're good citizens," Tweek sneered. "Being a good citizen is important." 

"Did you kidnap him?" The fat one asked. "You gonna make him be your sex slave or something? Are we selling him for money like the other one?" 

"What, no," Craig said, shaking his head as Pip watched wide eyed. "And leave Thomas alone." 

"I mean, if you're not gonna mate him, I will." Pip gulped as the fat one loomed over him. 

"Aw, leave 'em alone, Eric," the one in the jacket shoved him away, and picked him up. "Names Kenneth, but you can call me Ken, and the ladies call me Kenny." 

"Pip," he squeaked out. 

"That was established, sweet cheeks," Kenneth said. Kenny felt a bit too informal for a new person, a stranger who had taken it upon himself to hold him. "You're almost as cute as mine," he laughed, running his hand over Pip's face. "I gotta share him though, which can be a real drag. A replacement is overdue," he smiled, showing his teeth, "and upgrade." 

"Where is the twitchy fucker?" Eric said. "Not you, Tweek, the other one." 

"I wouldn't even feel bad if I smothered you in your sleep," Tweek shrugged before looking back at Craig. They sure kissed a lot. This was the most Pip had seen any two people kiss, and they were Alphas. He didn't know that Alphas could even be bonded.

"He's got work," Kenneth said flatly.

"Cause your knots not fulfilling him, huh?" Eric teased. 

"Just gotta eat," Kenneth shrugged. "Not all of us can just pickpocket our way through life. Someone's gotta support us."

"But not you, darling," Bebe laughed, waltzing over to him and running her hand over his face, nails dragging ever so slightly. "You're too pretty to work, aren't you?" 

"Oh, don't you know it. Too pretty for real work and not pretty enough for the streets. It's a real curse," he giggled, holding eye contact and leaning into her touch. "We can't all be like you, sweetie." 

"I'm not your sweetie," Bebe pulled her hand away, then shoved him in the chest. "You don't have enough money for that, and I'm not dumb enough to give you a cut of something I can handle just fine on my own."

"Fucking gross ," Eric grimaced, holding his hands over his face like he was about to vomit. "You two would probably give each other antibiotic resistant STDs." Pip didn't feel so well himself. Was this his heat? Or was it just him being overwhelmed by the stress. Omegas weren't known for prospering in stressful situations, it was something they went over every year in Sex Ed. Make sure that your Omega is calm, and if you're an Omega, pick one of the low stress career fields offered to you. 

"He's staying with us," Craig sighed, picking Pip off the ground. "He's gonna sleep in our tent, and we're gonna figure out what the fuck to do with him in the morning. I'm tired, you guys are stupid, and it's late." 

"I want you to sleep on the edge," Tweek grumbled, looking at Pip as he reclaimed his position clinging to Craig. "He's a minx and I don't know what he's capable of." 

"Kid can't even walk," Craig laughed, lifting him a little higher for emphasis. Pip trained his eyes on the backpack strap that cut into Craig's shoulders. That was his backpack, and at least it was safe and sound. All of his worldly possessions rested against the back of a near stranger. 

"He's still got holes, you know," Tweek walked ahead, after placing a kiss to Craig's temple, and crawled into a tent. Pip caught a glimpse of a pile of blankets and a corner full of wadded up clothing. "He smells like a hooker," he shouted, leaving the flap open. 

"He's probably just stressed," Craig reasoned with him, ducking his head and squatting as he tried to keep Pip upright as he made his way inside. "My mom is an Omega and she used to stink when money was tight. It happens." 

"Gross, you had to smell your Mom's sex shit, that's disgusting," Tweek grimaced, pulling the pile of blankets into a makeshift pallet. "I'd hate to know if my mom was horny. I like to think that she's never been horny before in her life." 

"I mean you're here, so your Mom was horny at least once," Craig said, ducking down to fit in the tent. 

"Stop it," Tweek swatted the air in front of him. "You're disgusting, you know. I don't know how anyone dates you." 

"Me either," Craig laughed, placing Pip down on the blankets. They were soft, and the tent was warmer than the outside, resistance to windchill and all that. He froze in place when Craig scooted him to the side of the blankets, careful not to knock his ankle. He paused to wad up some of the extra bedding underneath his foot, elevating it. 

He was so careful with him, in a way that Alphas were never shown. He didn't really know any Alphas. He knew Damien, and that's about it. Damien was a nice Alpha, too. Maybe they were mostly nice Alphas. Even Tweek seemed nice, deep down.

They both seemed like people who could use five hundred dollars, and here they were, letting him sleep in their tent for free. 

"You used to getting fucked through your heats?" Craig asked, soft enough that Pip doubted it could be heard outside the tent. "Me and Tweek aren't gonna fuck you, for the record. We aren't interested." 

"I haven't, uh," Pip's face grew red as Craig put a pillow behind his head. "I spend heats alone." 

"Oh fuck," Tweek giggled, jabbing Craig in the side. "A fucking virgin. We found a virgin Omega outside alone at night. Kid, you're lucky. So fucking lucky." 

Heat rushed across Pip's face as they laughed among themselves for a few minutes. A few occasional jeers of a virgin, really, what are the odds, with more laughing. He didn't see what was so funny. He didn't have a bond mark, so he assumed that they would just know he was a virgin. He didn't really know a ton of Omegas, though. He'd known a few when he was in the home, but they mostly kept to themselves. The group home had been very careful about making sure there were no lasting relationships. 

No accidental Omega packs. 

"Does it hurt?" Tweek asked, leaning over Craig to stare at Pip. "Thomas said it hurt, but I think Thomas is a liar. Thomas likes sex too much for heats to hurt." 

"Thomas having sex all the time doesn't mean he likes it, idiot," Craig grumbled. "It means he likes heroin." 

"I mean, he obviously does, he does a lot." Tweek looked at Pip a little longer. This whole thing was so embarrassing. "He does heroin all the time, like even when we can see him." 

"What?" Pip asked. They didn't respond to him, which he was used to from his few encounters with Alphas. They thought they were better than him, and maybe they were. Pip didn't really have much to show for 18. 

"He doesn't stink as bad," Tweek laughed, pushing Craig out of the way to lay next to Pip. He sniffed at his neck, then titled Pip's head to make eye contact with him. Once for school, Pip had seen a video of a jaguar playing with it's prey before it died, and there were eerie similarities. 

"Lay off him," Craig groaned, but he didn't put a finger on him. "He was probably just all freaked. They get like that sometimes. They don't like Alphas to fight." 

Tweek smiled, showing crooked teeth as he leaned in closer to Pip. Pip squeezed his eyes shut and offered up the blank spot where a bond mark would go on his neck. There was more laughter, but Pip didn't look up. 

"He's not interested in Omegas," Craig snorted. "He's not going to mark you." 

"I mean, I'm not uninterested," Tweek said, close enough that Pip could feel his breath on his face. "Omegas can be cute, sometimes. The slick thing is interesting. Does it hurt?" There was a pause where all Pip could hear was everyone's breathing in the tent. He tried to breathe quieter. "I asked you a question!" His voice boomed. 

Pip curled in on himself, covering his face with his forearms. His stomach did somersaults as Tweek flipped him back toward the two Alphas. He whimpered, feeling the slick start back up again. He was going to lose his virginity to a thirty four year old stranger in a tent. But he was lucky, wasn't he. At least they didn't sell him to that other creep. 

"Dude," Craig said, and then the hand was off of his body. "You're scaring him. You can't yell at him, they shut down." 

"He won't fucking answer me! It's like he's looking past me, and I can't! That makes me so mad! I'm a person! I'm right here!" Tweek yelled, turning him again. This time Pip's foot caught on the blankets, causing his ankle to move. He whimpered, covering his face.

"It's nothing personal. He's just scared. He doesn't think anything bad about you, just that you're gonna rape him, probably," Craig said, calmly, rolling Pip back onto his back and propping his foot back up.

"I'm not a rapist, though! We're not all a bunch of criminals and rapists, that's a fucked up stereotype." Tweek grumbled, shoving Pip with his open palm. "It's bad to stereotype people, didn't your parents teach you manners?" 

"Dude," Craig said, voice low. "Kid doesn't have any parents." 

"Oh, fuck," Tweek stuttered, pulling his hands back into his lap. "Fuck, I didn't mean that. That was mean, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be mean. I'm not good with people. I have never been good with people. I am not a people person." The statements kept coming out rapid fire, almost so fast that Pip couldn't understand him. 

"Slow down, it's okay. He doesn't care. We're given him a place to sleep, and we're gonna give him some food and water in the morning, so he forgives you. Don't you?" Craig nudged him, making eye contact with urgency. 

"Yes," Pip spat out, mouth dry. Tweek visibly relaxed, sinking back into a slouch, leaning against Craig. 

"Also, he thinks we're all rapists because Kenny just tried to fucking buy him off us, like he's a dog or some shit." 

"Are you a dog?" Tweek asked, eyebrows raised. "Like can you poly-morph? I had a dream that people could poly-morph once, and you kind of look like the dude from my dream. He was blonde. I thought the dude was me, but maybe it's you. Are you me?" Pip shook his head as Craig sighed. 

"It's time for you to go the fuck to bed," Craig grumbled, pushing Tweek down onto his pillow. Tweek giggled, like a school girl, nuzzling against Craig's neck. Pip couldn't help but watch as they scented each other. That was something that he'd seen in the movies, where an Alpha would do that for his stressed Omega partner, usually a pretty lady. 

"Are you two, you know, a thing?" Pip asked as they kissed. It seemed obvious, but he wanted to be absolutely sure before he accused them of being homosexuals. They seemed so set on being good citizens, that this didn't gel with that idea, at least not to Pip. 

"Yes," Craig laughed.

"Gotta problem? Huh?" Tweek asked, snarling as he looked back at Pip. He shook his head, sitting up with his hands holding his weight.

"Chill, dude. Just chill for like ten minutes. Kid's a virgin, he's probably never met a gay person in his life." Pip bristled at being called kid over and over, but it was better than being Kenneth's sweet cakes by quite a lot. It didn't seem like Craig was old enough to call him kid. He was only in his twenties, which wasn't that much older than eighteen, not really.

"Fucking fine," Tweek said, leaning in for another kiss. "But he's in our tent, and I don't want any more fucking lip from him. It smells disgusting in here, and it's all his fault. He could at least not get on my last fucking nerve as he stinks up the place." 

"Yes, Pip, we are gay," Craig laughed, rolling his eyes as Tweek continued to complain about the smell. "You know, if you stopped stressing him, the smell would probably go away. Freak him out enough and he's gonna be having a heat in a couple days." 

"It's not due until August," he said softly, trying to avert his eyes from Tweek. "I can go sleep somewhere else, if you want." 

"No, we are good citizens," Tweek said.

"Even if you don't think we are," Craig added. "Kenny is a vulture. Thomas used to be a sweet kid. 

"He was a pussy." 

"Don't call Thomas a pussy," Craig chided. 

"Fact: he was a pussy. He cried the first time Butters brought him back their tent. Kid cried all night," Tweek said, shrugging. 

"All night?" Pip asked, sitting up straight and wrapping his arms around himself.

"He doesn't do it anymore, don't worry. He got over that phase, so we can all sleep again. It's hard enough to sleep with people coming and going, but it's almost impossible to sleep when he's screaming 'stop' and 'go away' over and over." Pip's mouth fell open, and he felt like he was going to vomit. 

"Don't tell him that," Craig snapped, glaring at Tweek. 

"It's what happened. He used to complain so much. Always whining. What is with him and screaming? I don't know. I can't stand it," Tweek shook his head as he complained, covering his ears with both hands. "So much yelling." 

"Stop," Craig ordered, eyes narrowed as he looked at Tweek. "Stop talking about Thomas." 

"Why? He's gonna met him, right? If he stays with us, then he'll meet Thomas. Hell, he'll probably hear him come begging Kenny for more dope the minute he comes back into camp." Tweek sighed, like it was the natural order of the world. Like Craig was asking him to stop explaining how the world was round. 

"Thomas is not a good example," Craig said, holding eye contact with Pip, whose mouth was still open. "Thomas is not how all Omegas who have to spend a few nights in a tent end up."

"He's the only Omega Kenny has," Tweek said, yawning as he laid back down. "Butters and him used to have another one, what was his name, was it Bradley? I don't know what happened to him, but he used to sleep in their tent, and then he just stopped coming back. It was all of a sudden, too. Real weird. They don't even need an Omega, cause they're Betas. Kenny is real weird, even if his dick looks like it's pretty nice." 

"Dude, what the fuck?" Craig groaned. "His dick?" 

"You know," Tweek explained, making a jerking off motion over his crotch as he laid down, "sometimes you can see the outline when he's hard. And he's hard a lot, man. Like if you just look, at least fifty percent of the time, Kenny's rock hard. Can't be comfortable. Do you think it's like a medical thing? God, that'd be the worst complication, having your dick always hard. I wouldn't even want it, even if it meant my dick could be bigger. Maybe mine isn't as big as his, but at least it's not always hard. I don't want strangers to be able to size up my junk, no thanks, man." 

"Pip didn't need to know about his penis, or anyone's penis," Craig sighed, pressing himself into Tweek. "Remind me to explain to you what Kenny does for a living." 

"I know what he does," Tweek said as Pip shuddered. Pip was pretty sure he knew, too. The older Omegas at the group home, right after he presented had explained to him what guys like Kenny did. "He finds Omegas and makes them have sex with people for money. Then he takes the money and gives them drugs. And they all sleep in Kenny's and Butter's tent." 

"Do you understand what Thomas does?" Craig asked, sitting up a little to look at Pip, who had once again covered his face. All of this sounded awful to him. He didn't want to do drugs, and he didn't want to have sex for money. He didn't even know that he wanted to have sex with Damien. He knew he'd say yes to Damien if that's what he wanted, but he didn't feel ready. He was taught by his parents, his ex-parents, that sex was something two people did when they loved each other a whole bunch, and he wasn't so sure he loved Damien. 

"He has sex for drugs," Tweek said, beaming like he was the teachers pet answering a hard question correctly. 

"Right. But did Thomas do drugs when he came to our camp?" Craig asked, like he was trying to lead Tweek down the line of thought that Pip had immediately jumped to. The more Pip heard Tweek talk, the more he figured something was wrong with Tweek.

"Uh," Tweek stalled, frowning and furrowing his brow, "no, I don't think so. Do you think Kenny gave him drugs?" 

"I think Kenny is a bad person," Craig said. 

"And we are good citizens."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey their is some sexual content in the chapter, and there will continue to be sexual content through out the fic, so if you're not into that, probably time to pack up.

Sleeping on the floor was difficult, it turned out. The bedding was worn thin, and to be honest, Pip wasn't sure that it would have been better if there was more of it. What little padding remained in the blankets seemed to be entirely in lumps. He shivered through the night, not expecting it to get so cold. It was almost summer, wasn't it? How did they sleep outside like this in the winter? 

After about an hour of shivering in Craig's coat, with a blanket piled on top of him, Tweek wrapped an arm around him, pulling him into their huddle. Body heat made the whole experience more bearable as Tweek draped himself over Pip. The tent smelled much more like Tweek than it did Craig, though he had gone nose blind to what smelt to him like an oncoming heat.

"Thanks," he croaked out, trying to get comfortable with the new weight on his chest. 

"Don't want you to freeze," Tweek whispered, and by whispered it was just a breathy kind of talking, no less loud that usual. "Gotta be a good citizen," he added, chuckling to himself. 

"Go to bed," Craig groaned, pulling the blanket. Tweek yanked it back, elbowing Pip in the ribs, but he didn't complain.

It was sort of how he imagined having siblings to be. They'd be close, not just emotionally, but physically. They'd pile on top of each other for fun and just be. He didn't imagine them Alphas. By the time he had a grasp of secondary genders he'd outgrown such childish fantasies. And when he was taken in by his family, ex-family, they weren't anything like what he'd hoped. 

But they were a family, and he thought that was what mattered.

It wasn't, and it's not like being held by Tweek really meant anything either. He was just trying to conserve body heat, and maybe get the panicked smell to dissipate.  This was a necessity to his survival, not something he did out of fondness. 

"You're in heat, right?" Tweek asked.

"Fucking duh," Craig groaned. "I just want to sleep, please. I have a job interview tomorrow and I need to get up extra early to go shower at the gym so I don't stink." 

"Sorry," Pip squeaked out, the darkness hiding the blush that was creeping up his ears. "It's not due until August," he repeated. They had been regular since he was fourteen, the week before school he'd get a stomach ache, have a heat, and then he'd go in on the first day feeling like a load of wet garbage. 

"Is that why I have a boner? It's hard to sleep like this, how does Kenny sleep?" Tweek asked, pulling Pip a little closer into the pile. Pip whimpered as his ankle jostled, but was quickly silenced by Tweek's hand over his mouth. 

"I doubt Kenny sleeps with one," Craig grumbled, sitting up. It was dark, so Pip couldn't make out the look on his face, but he sounded annoyed. 

"I can leave," Pip whispered, trying to pull the blanket over his head. 

"And what? Go with Kenny?" Craig asked. 

"If you want to be with Kenny anyways, can we sell you for the five hundred dollars?" There was a sharp sound of a slap, then a yelp. "What, I'm just saying, man, maybe he wants to live like that. And if he does, only," he stressed the word, "only, if he does, then we should take the money. We could stay inside for like a whole week, dude. A week!" 

"We don't sell people. It's wrong." 

"I was just saying, if he wanted to go, then we should get the money." 

The room went quiet as Pip tried to disappear into himself. His stomach ached, like it always did pre-heat, and he was beginning to feel warm. Not warm in a comforting sense, not a fire but a fever. He wanted to take his clothes off, but he did not want to draw attention to how naked he was. He pulled off the jacket, careful to move as little as possible while Tweek held him in place. 

"Are you getting naked?" Tweek asked, pulling his arm away. "Am I supposed to get naked? Craig?" 

"Go to sleep," Craig groaned. "Everyone, just sleep." 

"He doesn't have a shirt on," Tweek said, shaking Pip, then leaning forward to hit a battery operated lantern they kept near the bed. "Look," he said, sitting him up. "He's naked, and it's cold." 

"Leave him alone." Craig looked pissed, his face drawn and nose crinkled like he had smelled something bad. Pip shivered, wrapping his arms around himself as he sat. 

"My dick hurts," Tweek complained. "It hurts, Craig." 

"Goddamn it," Craig hissed, looking temporarily at the top of the tent. Pip let his head sink down while Craig said something about how he was trying to be helpful, a good person. "Pip doesn't want to have sex with you, Tweek." 

"Can we have sex?" There was silence. "Come on, Craig. Please?" Tweek begged. He leaned his body against Craig, smiling as he kissed at his neck. "I want to." 

"Can I just lay here?" Craig asked, rolling over onto his stomach with his ass in the air. Pip watched, in mild horror and curiosity as Tweek pulled of his own pants then Craig's.

"That's what you always do, right?" Tweek teased. Pip thought he was going to faint when he saw Tweek bend over and start licking his butthole. Was this an Alpha thing? Craig moaned and squirmed as Tweek held him in place. 

"Jesus, Tweek," Craig gasped, "warn a guy."

Tweek shook his head, face still partially buried, and giggled. Or it sounded like a giggle, Pip wasn't sure. He blushed, but didn't stop watching. He'd never even really sat down with porn before, so two Alphas dropping trow right in front of him, seemed strange. When Tweek flipped Craig over onto his back, and took his penis into his mouth, Pip let out a moan, involuntarily. 

Craig blushed, but continued bucking his hips upwards, anyways. Pip pulled off his jeans, not minding too much that they made him twist his ankle, and stuck his hand in his underwear. God, they were still damp with piss and slick. He couldn't believe he had done that, after a few seconds of watching and listening, he took those off, too. 

"Fuck, Craig," Tweek laughed, pulling off with a wet plop. "Look at Pip," he smiled, teeth showing as Pip sat, naked. 

"Oh, I am so sorry," Pip bit his lip, avoiding eye contact. "This is wrong, I shouldn't. I've just never, I've never seen that done before and it was, uh, it made me," Pip faltered, hanging his head down as he covered his crotch with both hands. 

"You've got a stiffie," Craig explained as Tweek dug around the room. "It's normal." 

"No, you're a pervert," Tweek teased, belly jiggling as he laughed. He held out a small bottle he retrieved from a pile of laundry, and squirted some onto his hand, then rubbed himself with it. "Bet you wish I was about to be sliding into you, don't you." 

"No," Pip said, but he faltered as Craig gasped when Tweek pressed his cock inside his ass. "Bloody hell," he whispered, running his fingers around his own length. 

"Fuck, you're tight," Tweek whispered, Craig's legs around his shoulders. He pulled back as Pip scooted himself closer. The moan Pip made when Tweek slammed his hips back against Craig's was involuntary, and Pip suspected that the noise Craig was making as he covered his face wasn't planned either. 

"He likes it," Tweek teased, rearing back and hitching his hands underneath Craig's thighs. Craig didn't complain as he was lifted off the ground, though the more he watched, Pip didn't think he'd complain either. "Didn't, nnn, didn't think you had an exhibitionist thing, though." 

"Shut up," Craig said with his teeth pressed together. "Shut up," he repeated, pitch higher. 

Tweek laughed, nodding as Craig covered his face with his hands. He didn't talk as he continued to rock into Craig, occasionally bending over to nip him on the neck or run his hand over his cock. Pip couldn't believe he was watching, it felt wrong, but no one had told him to stop.

He inched a little closer, and heard Tweek whisper something indistinguishable frantically and Craig nod. By the time Pip had sat back on his haunches, slick dripping onto the bedding, Tweek had let out a strangled cry, hips pressed into Craig, like interconnected parts. 

"Well, finish," Craig complained after a few silent seconds, grabbing at his penis with one hand and guiding Tweek's hand there with the other. "I want to come too," he mewled. 

"I want to come, too," Pip mimicked him, without thinking. Once the sound reached his ears he dove back for the blankets, pulling them over his body even though the tent was so warm. He'd rather be boiled alive than have to make eye contact with either of them. 

"Aw, he wants to come," Tweek giggled. "I love you," he added as Pip pulled the blankets tighter. 

"Stop teasing him," Craig snapped. "Fuck, don't stop," he panted after that, as Tweek continued laughing. 

"You're making the face, are you close?"

"Fuck, Tweek," Craig groaned as Pip halfheartedly played with himself. It was awkward with people in his personal space, and he wasn't far enough gone to not care. "God," he panted, then he squealed. Pip didn't know why he was squealing, but soon after the noises changed from fast and desperate to low rumbling whispers. 

"Is he okay?" Craig asked as Pip shifted himself. He ground himself into the blankets, supporting himself with his knees, not his feet. It hurt when he jostled his ankle, but the friction felt more urgent than the little jolts of pain. 

"I dunno," Tweek sighed, and there was the sound of something heavy hitting the bedding, and a great oof. "I can ask him. Hey Pip, you okay?" 

"Oh dear," he trembled, deciding it was best to just collapse stomach first. "I'm fine. I'm sorry to intrude." 

"It's okay," Craig said, though Pip had the sneaking suspicion that saying that he wanted to come right after Craig said that, was not okay. 

"I'm sorry," he repeated. 

"You're just horny," Tweek said, pulling the blankets away. Pip looked up, aware of how naked he was, and saw Tweek and Craig joined together. 

"You knotted him?" Pip asked. "You knotted an Alpha?" 

"That's what our dicks do when we come, so yeah?" Tweek said. "It'd be weird if I didn't." 

"Be quiet," Craig complained. Pip sat back up to see Craig's dick stiff between them, the knot exposed. 

"Wow," Pip said, shocked. 

"Yeah, he's got a nice one, right? It's way nicer than mine, but he's so lazy that he just wants to lay there and I don't mind doing the extra work, not really. Relationships are about compromise. Aren't they?" 

"Oh my God," Craig groaned as he shook his head. "It's just a dick." 

"It's the best one, and that's why we're dating, isn't it? Because you have a magic dick!" Tweek giggled, wiggling his hips a little as he peered in on Craig's face. He looked completely overwhelmed every time Tweek moved. 

"Still, be still," he said, teeth clenched. "God, we just fucked in front of this kid." 

"He's in heat, he won't remember it," Tweek laughed again. He laughed so much for a guy who had been so threatening earlier in the day. "Will you?" 

"His heat isn't that far along," Craig grumbled. "He'll remember watching us fuck." 

"Well whose he gonna tell? Kenny?" Tweek asked. 

"I don't want to talk to Kenny," Pip rushed out, scooting to where his back was against the wall of the tent. The wind blew right through, causing him to shiver. He shouldn't have been cold. Omegas in heat were not supposed to be cold.

"Then we're good. It's just me, your magic dick, and him. And we can keep a secret, right?" Pip nodded, even though Tweek was staring into Craig's eyes. They made eye contact a lot, was that something people in relationships did? He didn't like eye contact, it felt too threatening. Maybe that's why he had only ever had the one boyfriend. 

"Don't make fun of him," Craig rolled his eyes, but he kept looking. They both kept looking at each other, like they were the last two people on the planet. 

They weren't, though. Pip was still in the corner of the tent, ankle stinging as he constantly reminded himself not to jack off in the presence of strangers. It wasn't right to do that in front of Alphas, and it'd surely give them the wrong idea. 

"I'm not, I'm not," Tweek argued, dislodging himself from Craig. "I'm tired," he complained, collapsing into the empty spot near Craig. "Night."

"Jesus H Christ," Craig sighed, looking at Pip. "Well, come to bed, okay?" Pip sat there, shivering in the cold. He didn't want to be by the two of them, he had just intruded on their personal time. "Fuck, just come to bed," he tried again, shoulders heaving as he threw his head back. "It's cold and come lay by us so you don't freeze." 

Pip stayed put, eyeing the zippered door to the tent. He could leave, and maybe that Bebe girl would let him sleep in her tent. It'd be less awkward to jack off in front of a Beta girl then two Alphas. 

"Come to bed," Craig said louder. "It's an order." Pip was frozen. He folded in on himself when he heard Craig inhale, and dropped with his arms over his head, folded in half when Craig yelled. "Come to goddamn bed!" 

Pip nodded, casting his head down as he slunk back to the spot Craig was pointing at, the one directly by him. He laid on the far edge of the blanket, careful not to accidentally touch Craig's body. He whimpered when Craig wrapped an arm around him, pulling him into the group. 

"Sorry, just, fuck, it's frustrating," he explained. "You can't lay by Tweek, because he gets too fucking horny, apparently." Pip nodded as Craig leaned forward to turn off the light. "Press into my side so you don't freeze to death. Goodnight, Pip." 

"Good night," he squeaked back, following his instructions. "Sorry," he added, feeling the stickiness from his legs be transferred onto Craig's pants. "Sorry," he repeated. 

"Just go to bed. I don't care. I'm covered in semen and lube so whatever you've got going on is no big deal," he said as Tweek snored behind them. "And if you need to take care of things," he coughed, "then do it quietly, okay?" 

Pip didn't know what he could possibly need to take care of, but he nodded. He laid there, looking at where the poles in the tent connected until the sky above them started to lighten.


	5. Chapter 5

"Please," a high pitch voice pleaded, jolting Pip out of his dreamlike state. 

 

He wasn't sleeping, because sleeping during preheat was practically impossible, so he was just watching the translucent material in the tent roof change colors as the sun rose. The light filtered down onto Tweek and Craig who were fast asleep as the person outside continued begging. 

 

"Please!" The voice said louder. It sounded like a girl, but maybe it was a boy. He wasn't sure. Without a face to attach it to, he couldn't be sure. "Please, I, shit, shit, fuck, need it." 

 

Pip considered going to help him, but he was even all that strong. He wouldn't win in a fight with who ever that person was trying to get their stuff from. He wondered if Craig would refuse to give him his bag back when he wanted to leave. He didn't think he would, but maybe that was customary. 

 

"Ah ah ah," Kenny said, and Pip moved his eyes to see his silhouette move against the tent, along with the shadow of someone smaller. "You gotta pay for merchandise. Product costs money." 

 

"D, ugh, fuck! Fuck! Fuck! He didn't, goddamn it! Give me money!" The smaller figure shook as the Kenny walked forward, wrapping an arm around their body. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" 

 

"Doesn't feel too good, does it?" Kenny said, voice smooth and sultry. "Maybe if you make me feel good, then we can work something out?" 

 

There was a vigorous nodding, and a few more curse words, before the figures moved away. 

 

* * *

 

 

 

An alarm blared as Pip continued to look at the walls of the tent. It was bright inside, at this point, as bright as a tent ever got. His face was flushed as sweat dripped down the nape of his neck. 

 

"God, it's early and it stinks," Craig stretched his arms upward, bumping into Pip as he sat up. He turned and looked at Pip, who was just sitting upright, trying not to hurl. He always felt awful before it started, and though he couldn't remember his heats clearly, he imagined that they also felt terrible, if the aftereffects were anything to go by.

 

"Sorry," he said, voice hoarse. He normally didn't have to try to talk at this point. His foster mom would just send him upstairs to his room with a case of water and some snacks and let him ride it out. No one checked on him, and he'd usually did okay. It was easier to be alone. 

 

"Stop apologizing," Craig said, pulling off his shirt and sliding out of his pants. He waltz across the tent naked, and dug through the laundry, before pulling out a pair of jeans and a polo. He slid them on, not bothering with underwear or socks before putting on his shoes. Pip averted his eyes, even though he had seen everything last night. 

 

He'd watched them have sex last night.

 

"Sorry," Pip threw his hand over his mouth after he said it. "I mean, sorry," God, he was bad at this. "I don't feel well," he finished on, deciding to lay back down. 

 

"You want some water?" Craig asked, pulling out a plastic bottle with the label ripped off. He cracked the lid, sniffing, then taking a drink. "Yeah, it's water," he added. Pip didn't know what else it could have been, but maybe if his head wasn't so cloudy he could have figured it out. 

 

"No," Pip said, but he took it when it was handed to him anyways. He mouthed a thank you, then sipped slowly. 

 

"So we got to babysit you in this tent for a week before we can help you find a different place?" Craig asked sitting on the floor. "Is that how long your heats are?" 

 

"I can't, I don't remember," he said after a long pause.

 

"That's how long my Mom would lock herself in her room," Craig shrugged. "I could go to a payphone and call her, I guess. Seems like a weird thing to call about."

 

Pip nodded. He never thought about parents getting heats, but he guessed it had to happen. 

 

"I think," Pip struggled to say, drinking some more water as he fought the urge to press himself into Tweek. "I think," he looked at Craig, waiting to be reprimanded as he slid next to Tweek like a magnet.

 

"Make him put on a condom," Craig rolled his eyes. "No, fuck it, I'm gonna tell him." Craig sat next to Tweek, smiled a little, before shaking the ever loving shit out of him. 

 

"What? Gnomes? I'll get them! Don't touch us! You piece of shit! Gah!" Tweek screamed, blinking his eyes rapidly as Pip scooted across the tent. Tweek swung his arms wildly, and Pip was glad he'd made the decision to move. 

 

"No, not gnomes," Craig sighed. "Just Craig, wake up." 

 

"Oh, morning Craig," he yawned, "you look handsome," like he hadn't just screamed all that nonsense. "What's that smell?" 

 

"Pip," Craig looked exhausted. He wondered if it was lack of sleep, or if Craig just always looked that way. Slowly, Pip crept back across the room to lay next to Tweek. "I need to go to that interview. Wear a condom, okay? Don't knock up Pip." 

 

"What?" Tweek looked around, locking eyes with Pip then cocking his head at Craig. "I'm, what? A condom?" 

 

"You're obviously into it," Craig said, unzipping the tent and ducking his head as he walked out. "So when you inevitably have sex with him because you have zero self control, wear a condom." 

 

"I'm into you!" Tweek yelled as the tent zipped shut. "I love you!"

 

"Love you, too," Craig said, hitting the top of the tent with his open hand. "Remember, the condoms are by the water. Make sure he drinks, too." 

 

"I'm not going to!" Tweek yelled, looking at Pip and shaking his head as Craig's silhouette walked away. "I have self control," Tweek grumbled, looking at Pip with a frown. "I'm not," he repeated. "You're not my boyfriend." 

 

"Okay," Pip nodded, though he didn't move from beside Tweek. "You don't, you don't have to," he added. "I've never, this would be the first time, and I don't really know you, so I'd rather, uh, rather not." 

 

"Fuck you, too,"  Tweek growled. "Virgins, ugh. You're not better than me. Don't pretend to be better than me. Lack of experience doesn't make you better. You're sleeping in our tent, because us, we're more experienced and we're taking care of you. You should be grateful! Grateful!"

 

Tweek ran into the zipped door, collapsing part of the tent as he struggled to unzip it. He complained about Pip's lack of gratitude as Pip scurried away from the collapsing walls into the direct center of the tent. 

 

"Get some manners!" Tweek shouted, finally finding his way out. "Maybe when I come back tonight, you'll be better behaved? Huh? You think? I hope so, or maybe I just won't come back! Maybe I'll go stay somewhere else!" 

 

Pip sat, awestruck as Tweek left, stomping in the sunlight, and leaving the door wide open. Quickly he realized that everyone could see him naked, and pulled the blankets around himself in a makeshift nest. He was never good at nest building, even though they were supposed to naturally good at it. He thought maybe it was a lie his Home Ect teacher told him, but maybe he was just an outlier. 

 

He sipped the water and continued to sweat under the blankets as he waited for his heat to begin in earnest. He wouldn't know when it started, not on a conscious level. He'd just sit there, or lay there, depending on his mood, and wait until it was over. The middle would be a blur of jacking off and sleeping, that he'd have no hope of ever sorting out. 

 

If he waited long enough, it'd just happen, so that's what he did. He didn't fix the tent, and he didn't get dressed, he just waited.

 

And it finally came. 

 

It was different this time. This time was noisy, not just sounds of birds and cars, but people talking. He couldn't tell if they were talking to him, most of the time, but he hoped not. He couldn't tell anything until someone's cool hands were pressed against his warm skin, one on each shoulder. 

 

"You want to be taken care of, don't you?" The voice said. Pip nodded, because he did. He leaned into the touches, trying to nuzzle his face against this person's chest. They didn't have a smell, so they must have been a Beta. He'd take a Beta, they'd work just as well, he figured. 

 

"I'm gonna take care of you," the voice said. "I do a good job of taking care of Omegas," he added. "Just gonna pick you up, and you're gonna wear my jacket, okay?"

 

Wearing a jacket sounded dreadful, but the being held was too good of an offer to be passed up. Like a zombie, he held out his arms, letting the stranger zip him into a coat, and swing him bridal style. He kissed at the stranger's clothes, bucking his hips upward as the voice laughed. 

 

"You're friendly, aren't you?" Pip nodded. It was bright outside, brighter than he was used to. He buried himself away, trying to avoid the light. "I like 'em friendly, so does the boss."

 

"I like," Pip mimicked. "I like friendly," his mouth felt like cotton as he squeezed his eyes shut. This person smelt like booze and cigarettes, but they were touching him. There was value in being touched, he decided. He didn't think he'd be able to say anything, even if he wanted to. 

 

"We're going to have fun, aren't we?" The voice chuckled. Pip nodded. He didn't know exactly what he meant by fun, but he was hopeful. 

 

"Touch me?" Pip asked, pulling up the hem of the jacket. It was too hot, he couldn't handle how hot it was.

 

"Not yet," the voice laughed. This person was in such a good mood it was contagious, so Pip laughed too. "I'm gonna call my boss and we're gonna get you in a car, okay?" 

 

Pip didn't ride in cars very often. In fact, he was fairly certain the last time he rode in a car was when Damien would pick him up from school. Damien had a nice car with leather seats and air conditioner. He waited in this strangers arms, eyes closed, being constantly reminded not to touch himself. It was cruel, really. 

 

He had one thing he wanted to do, and he wasn't allowed to do it. It wasn't fair. 

 

"Hey," the voice said. Pip peaked his eyes open, wincing in the sunlight, to see the man, hood on, talking on a phone. Pip said hey, anyways. "Yeah, I've got you someone. Of course, an Omega. A boy, uh-huh, I know," the man nodded smiling down at Pip. "He's in heat, so send a car. What's his name? Fuck if I know," the man laughed. 

 

"Pip," he said, fingers brushing at the bottom of the jacket again. 

 

"Says his name is Pip," the man repeated. "He's gonna get us a public indecency charge if you don't hurry," the man was frowning. What had Pip done to make him angry? He didn't know. "Yeah, just hurry up." 

 

Pip waited in the man's arms for what felt like an entirety waiting on a car. He had a nagging feeling, deep in his gut, that he didn't want to be here, but whenever it'd start to creep up, the man would move his hands and the feeling would be gone. 

 

"Are we going to fuck?" Pip asked, flinching as his hands were swatted away again. "Please?" Pip asked again, turning into his jacket. "I need it." 

 

"And we're going to get you everything you need," the man laughed. Pip laughed, too. Whatever he said was funny, and it'd be rude not to join him. "The boss is on the way. We take care of Omegas, it's our job." 

 

Pip perked up when he heard a door open, peeking through his eyelids to see a nice black car. It was like the one Damien had, in that they were both black. Black was common for cars, wasn't it? He thought so. His foster family had a red car, but he never rode in it. He took the bus. 

 

As he was lowered into the backseat, it was leather, he could feel it. Leather was nice. He sniffed the air, and it smelled like Damien. What a cruel trick for his mind to play on him, he bemoaned. It was mean to make him think Damien was here, even if he was in heat. 

 

"You're driving, so you better be sober," the man in the front seat growled as the man who was holding him removed his hands. 

 

"Come back," Pip whined. "I need you," he kicked his feet, like a petulant child. He spread out onto the seat, face first into the leather, inhaling. At least it didn't smell like Damien, not like this. "Damien," he whimpered, thinking of him. Damien would have touched him, for sure. He would have spent the last night in a warm spare bedroom, and not in a tent, if Damien was around. 

 

"Hm?" A voice asked, sliding into the seat next to him. "What do you need, Phillip?" 

 

"Damien," he whined, kicking his feet again. "I need Damien," he wailed. "Take care of me." 

 

"Oh, I will," the voice said, "but you can't mess up my car, okay? It's very expensive, and though I make lots of money, I don't want to repair things due to your insolence." Pip stopped, but it wasn't on his own volition. The man had grabbed his ankles with one hand, and pulled him upright.

 

He couldn't smell the leather anymore, all he could smell was Damien, which was cruel. He had never hallucinated a smell during his heat, and it was a bad time to start. He'd never even read about that happening. 

 

"Hey, kiddo," the voice said. It was so familiar. Everything in this moment was so familiar, it drove him nuts. He couldn't quite place it, like a bad sense of deju vu, but he'd been in this car before, and he knew the voices. "Calm down, I'm going to take good care of you. Being moved during heat is hard, isn't it?" 

 

Pip nodded, inhaling and whispering Damien's name again. A strong hand grabbed him by the chin, and he opened his eyes. The man was Damien, it had to be. Everything looked fuzzy, like it always did during his heats, but the outline and the smell and the car, they were all Damien's. 

 

"Did you have a good birthday?" Damien asked, and Pip could make out a smile, he thought. Damien was so kind, he was always kind with him. "I hope so," he added, pulling Pip into his lap. 

 

"Uh-huh," Pip responded automatically, crawling into Damien's lap. He pulled up the jacket once he was there, to show Damien how hard he was, how much he hurt. "Fuck me," he whined, exposing his throat. "I looked for you." 

 

"Guess you would have got him sooner or later, hah," the voice in the front seat laughed. "Which place am I taking him? The hotel or the apartment?" 

 

"My apartment, idiot," Damien sneered. Pip looked up at him, frowning. Why did he sound so angry? He should have been excited, they were going to have sex, right? He had waited for Damien, like he said he would when they were dating.

 

"I waited," Pip purred, rocking back and forth against Damien's thighs. "Like you wanted." 

 

"That's good," Damien cooed. Pip laughed, he liked when he talked like that. "Kenneth, back door of the hotel, call Garrison, tell him it'll cost five grand." 

 

"Five grand," the man in the front seat whistled as Pip pulled the jacket up higher. Maybe Damien just hadn't seen him, he thought. He unzipped the coat, letting it fall to the floorboards as he slid closer to Damien. "That's a pretty penny. What's the finder's fee on that?" 

 

"I'll toss in an extra hundred, under the condition that you shut the fuck up." Pip frowned, why was he being so mean? Weren't they about to have a good time? Maybe they needed to be bonded, he thought. He leaned forward, tilting his head to the side, exposing his neck. Damien had always said he'd mark him when the time came, and maybe now was the time. It felt like a good time to Pip. 

 

"Damien," Pip singsonged, rolling his hips forward. "Damien, mark me, it's okay. No one will get mad," Pip giggled. There was no one to get mad. He didn't understand why they hadn't liked him, anyways. He was so great, or maybe he just felt great as Pip leaned in, rubbing himself against his legs. Greatness was greatness, he figured. 

 

"I think lots of people would get mad," Damien whispered. "It'd make me very happy if you could act like this for my friend. Do you think you can do that?" Pip nodded. He wanted to do anything that would make Damien happy. 

 

"We taking him to the shop first?" The man in the front asked.

 

"No, straight to the hotel, and you better be on the phone right now negotiating a price," Damien growled. Pip shrunk down, resting his head against Damien's abdomen. "Shh, don't worry darling, you're going to feel much better, very soon, okay? Someone is going to fill you, and it's going to be great. You've never been filled before, have you?" 

 

Pip shook his head. That sounded great. He bounced up and down against Damien, hoping they could start now. 

 

"Do you use your fingers?" Damien asked, leaning forward and kissing him on the lips. It was quick, but Pip leaned into it. He shook his head when Damien pulled away, and pressed himself forward, again. "Tell the truth," Damien said, over the chatter from the front seat. 

 

"No, I don't," Pip adjusted his weight uncomfortably. "Should I?" He asked, pulling has hand around and hitching up his leg. 

 

"Ah, ah, ah," Damien scolded, grabbing him by the wrist. "If you wait, it will feel better, won't it?" Pip nodded, though he wasn't sure what Damien was talking about. "Tell him seven," Damien said. 

 

"Seven," Pip repeated. 

 

"He's not paying seven," the man in the front said while Damien scoffed. "He says the five is too much." 

 

"Then tell him we have someone else to call," Damien chuckled. "Tell him we have a barley legal twink in heat whose never even had fingers before, and if he wants to go first, he needs to pay accordingly." 

 

Pip didn't like the way that sounded, but he couldn't place why. He felt like his brain swimming in soup, the same way he felt when he had a high fever. He knew he should be paying attention, and he had always wanted to be present for his first time, but right now, any sort of relief felt like a great idea. 

 

"I jack off, sometimes," he giggled. "Is that bad?" 

 

"He's making a mess on me. Can you hurry?" Damien sighed as Pip leaned forward, kissing him. He whined when he was pushed away, but resumed grinding on his legs. 

 

"Want to be pulled over with a horny Omega riding your lap? I don't," the man in the front laughed. "Be there in five minutes, boss." 

 

"Five minutes, boss," Pip laughed, leaning forward again. "Five minutes, boss.


	6. Chapter 6

"Be still," a man barked. Pip tried to listen, but it felt impossible. Something stung his backside, and he whimpered. He wasn't even sure where he was sitting. 

"Just do the best you can," that voice was Damien. Damien was the one who had a firm grip on his shoulders, while the other man had his wrist. There was a buzzing as Pip tried to press into Damien. He was in heat, wasn't he? Why was someone else in the room when he was like this? He didn't think that was normal behavior. 

"I want to go to the nest," Pip whined, trying to pull his wrist back. "Nest!" He yelled, pulling harder. 

He recoiled when he was smacked. 

"You don't back talk your Alpha. Do you understand? Are you too horny and stupid to understand that simple fact?" Damien roared. Pip didn't know why he was being yelled at; Damien had never yelled at him before.

Furthermore, he didn't even know when he had found Damien. Last thing he remembered clearly was Craig and Tweek's tent, and the two of them screwing. Was this some sort of bad dream spawned by entering their personal moment? 

"Now sit still like a good boy, while he marks you," Damien's voice was softer, but still cruel. Pip didn't understand why, but he followed instructions, sitting as still as he could while offered his neck. "Oh, not that kind of mark, you poor, stupid thing." 

Pip yelped when something pierced his skin. Damien pressed down on his shoulders, holding him still as he winced. The buzzing continued and Pip opened his eyes to see a man with something silver pressing into his wrist over and over again. 

"Hurts," Pip squeaked out. 

"Be still," Damien warned, voice heavy and firm as Pip tried to pull back again. "Be still and it will be over soon." 

"Just the wings right?" The man asked. Pip's vision still wasn't clear, so the man was a blurry shape holding something menacing. 

"All they ever get is the wings," Damien growled. "Just do the job I pay you for." 

"Damien," Pip mewled, offering his neck again. They were mating, he was pretty sure. His teacher had never warned him about this part of a first heat, but maybe she'd just forgotten. That was possible, wasn't it? Maybe this was a standard part of all first filled heats, and he'd look back and laugh about how terrified he was. 

"Shush," Damien ordered. "If you're quiet until it's over, you'll get a reward." 

A reward sounded nice. He sat as still as he could, his other arm held in place by Damien, so he didn't accidentally try to cover his wrist, and waited for his surprise. Maybe he'd mark him, that'd be a good reward. Maybe they just had to take care of whatever was wrong with his wrist, first. Maybe he had broken it, that was pretty common, according to his teacher. 

Omegas get overstimulated during heats and do dumb things like break bones. That was common knowledge. He didn't imagine this to be what setting a break felt like, but he'd never broken anything before. He sighed in relief when his wrist stopped burning, barely flinching when a cool cloth ran over the tender skin. 

"Done. You like?" The man asked, wiping it again. 

"Great, now go." Damien said. This wasn't how Damien usually sounded. When Pip would go to his apartment at sixteen, he'd been sweet, offering to make popcorn as they snuggled on his couch, or to massage his back after a long day at school. He'd never been cruel. "Someone will pay you on the way out," he barked, "just go." 

The man listened and the blurred figure in front of him left. The door slammed, causing him to jump. 

"You ready for your reward?" Damien asked. That was the voice he was used to. He smiled, rubbing against him. He was naked, when had that happened? He couldn't remember. "I asked you a question," Damien sneered, grabbing him by the hair. 

"That hurts," Pip whimpered, trying to free himself. When he used the hand the man was holding, it hurt. Why did it hurt? He wasn't sure, but he couldn't seem to untangle Damien from his hair. When he tried, Damien just yanked harder. 

"Boys who are bad don't get surprises," he warned, pulling upward as he stood. Pip rose clumsily to his feet, struggling to stand. Damien pulled him along, so he followed, hair in his hand, hunched over with his feet struggling to keep up. 

"I'm dizzy. That hurts," Pip whined. "You're hurting me, Damien." 

"Then follow my instructions," he yanked one last time, before letting him go. Pip promptly feel to the ground in a heap, with his knees hitting first, then his elbows, then his face. He didn't even make any attempt to catch himself. He hadn't been aware he was falling until he had already hit the ground. 

He didn't ask why he was dropped, and he didn't ask why he had his hair pulled. He just waited on a heap on the floor until Damien decided to help him up, or his heat stopped. Maybe he was gay and the heat smells bothered him. Pip wasn't sure, but he'd met two gay people already, so there had to be more. 

"Are you gay?" 

Before he had finished the question, a boot was pressing his face into the carpet, grinding back and forth. 

"Don't you ever ask me that again, you understand?" Damien sounded like he was laughing. If he was the one pressing Pip into the floor, what was so funny about it? Was it a heat thing? "I own you. Do you understand?"

When Pip didn't say anything, Damien pressed harder. He yelped out in pain when the boot moved to his shoulder blades and he stomped. Damien held his weight there, pushing all of the air out of his lungs, until Pip felt like he was about to black out. 

"Now, was their something you wanted to ask me?" Damien's voice was sweet. 

Pip struggled to get upright, sitting on his haunches and gasping for air and waited. He squinted to try to make out Damien's form, to see if it was really him. He could see black boots, the kind that his foster dad had worn when he was inspecting a job site, and a blur of colors that must of been his clothes. When Damien raised his foot again, Pip screamed.

"I asked you a question." Damien looked like he was snarling, his lips curled as best as Pip could see. Say something, say anything, his brain told him. Make some kind of noise so that he wouldn't get stepped on again. 

"Yes," Pip said, settling on it after scanning his mind for the right thing to say as he kept his eyes trained on the boots. 

"Yes, what?" Damien asked, shifting his weight. Pip flinched, covering his head with both hands. He tried to ignore the stinging in his wrist as it brushed up against his hair. 

"I don't know," he whimpered. "I don't know," he said louder. "Don't step on me!" He didn't mean to scream, but he had. 

"I see you still have some self preservation, so we'll be just fine together, won't we?" Pip nodded, though he wasn't sure what Damien was saying. "Once your heat clears up, I'll have a turn with you, see if you know what you're doing or not. Teach you all the relevant facts." 

Pip continued nodding, though he was acutely aware of the discomfort between his legs. He didn't know what he was going to do during his heat, but he hoped he didn't get stepped on again. 

"It doesn't matter," Damien smiled leaning in close enough for Pip to see, "because you're not going to remember this, are you?" Damien shook his head back and forth and Pip copied him. He continued shaking his head, even as Damien walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. 

He sat there, shaking his head until a new figure came in. They were small, much smaller than Damien was, and held their head low as they approached Pip. They didn't smell like an Alpha, but there was a smell. 

"Oh dear, am I gay, too?" He asked, trying to get his eyes to focus on the smear of blonde and pale skin in front of him. The figure giggled, shoulders shaking as put his arms around Pip's waist, hoisting him into the air. 

"No, fuck, fuck," why was he cursing so much? "I mean, maybe. I don't know you so, fuck, maybe you're gay." The figure looked like a boy, and judging by the smell he was an Omega. He'd never met a boy Omega before, not up close. He had always been the only one in any of his classes, and he was the only one at the home, too. 

"You're a boy," Pip said numbly. It hurt to stand, but at least this person wasn't holding him by the hair. 

"Yeah," the figure said. "Thomas."

"Thomas, I like that name," Pip grinned. "Thomas is a fun name. It's very British sounding, proper." 

"Did, fuck, he step on you?" Thomas asked, touching the sore spot on his back. "With a boot?" Pip didn't respond, because he wasn't sure. All he was sure of was how horny he was, how the Omega holding him was a boy, and how he was probably gay. "What a dick," Thomas said with a hollow laugh after it. 

"Where are we going?" Pip asked. 

"Shower. It's my job to clean you up before your next client." Pip didn't know what he was talking about, but he nodded anyways. 

"I can shower," Pip said, letting his weight sag against Thomas. "I can shower, myself." 

"No, no you can't," Thomas laughed. "And anyways, I was paid upfront, bitch, and I can't return my payment, so you're gonna get clean." 

"I don't wanna," Pip was laughing along with Thomas, even as he was helped into a shower stall and cold water splashed onto his skin. He kept laughing, even as Thomas began rubbing his body with soap. Judging by the boner he held through the whole experience, he must have been gay. He couldn't hold onto the concept long enough to really think it through, but that was usually the case for his heats. 

"It's gonna feel like, fuck, like I'm fingering you," Thomas laughed, again. He seemed to laugh a lot, the more it went on. "And that's because, I sort of am." Pip moaned when Thomas inserted his fingers into his asshole, bending over with his head and hands against the tiled wall. 

"Don't, nn, don't stop," Pip whined, pushing out into it. 

"God, how many men did you have sex with?" Thomas asked, still giggling. "There's so much, fuck, semen." 

"Is that good?" Pip asked, rolling his hips. "Did I do good?" 

"Yeah, you did," Thomas chuckled. "You did good. Damien is going to be real happy, and he'll trade that for something that makes you, fuck, real happy." 

"Happy," Pip purred, the water rolling down his back as Thomas kept pumping his fingers in and out. "I am happy." 

"Yeah, right now, because you're in heat. Once it's done, you're, fuck, you're gonna be real sad." 

"Nu-uh," Pip moaned, knees bending as Thomas grazed his prostate. "Happy." 

"Yeah, fuck, happy," Thomas said, pulling his hand away. He wasn't laughing anymore, and Pip sank to the floor as the water went off. 

"Finish," he protested, looking up and the blurry figure holding out something white. He didn't struggle as something soft wrapped around his skin, drying him off. A towel.

"Just got to get you dry, walk you down the hall to a new room, and, fuck, leave you on the bed for the next Alpha," Thomas explained, wrapping the towel tightly around him.

"Finish," Pip pouted, as he waited for Thomas to resume fingering him.

To his dismay, he didn't. He marched him out of the room in just a towel, where they walked down a hallway that was too bright. Thomas fumbled with a door, before it finally opened, and he walked Pip in, sitting him on the bed. 

"You talk more than I do," Thomas teased, tousling Pip's hair with the towel. "I'm not, fuck, so chatty during heats." 

"It's hot," Pip answered, crawling onto all fours. "Help me." 

"We're gonna be roommates," Thomas said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I've never met a male Omega before. I'm, fuck, excited." 

"I'm, fuck, excited," Pip mimicked. 

"Don't copy my tics, that's, shit, just mean," Thomas sounded upset as Pip rocked back and forth, putting his face in his lap. 

"Mean," Pip said, groaning as he tried to finger himself. Anytime he'd get close to inserting his fingers, he'd lose his balance and fall over. "Just mean." This whole thing felt very mean. He just wanted to be filled, to be knotted, but here he was with another Omega who wasn't even fingering him. 

"I have to go, but I'll see you when, fuck, when you're done. We get a room, fuck, at the hotel, so I don't have to stay with Kenny and Butters." Kenny and Butters sounded familiar, but he wasn't sure from where. "Damien said he'd get me my stuff, if, shit, shit, shit, if I took care of you." 

"Take care of," Pip's thought trailed off as the bed creaked beneath him. He watched as the blurry figure left the room, and he was once again left to his own devices


	7. Chapter 7

 "Oh fuck." Pip felt like he had been run over by a truck when he opened his eyes. The room was too bright, but at least he could see. 

Wait, this was a room, not a tent. It was a familiar room, he decided after scanning around. From where it was familiar, he wasn't sure. He felt beneath him, running his hand across the carpet and up whatever was keeping him off the floor.

A couch, he smiled. Someone had found him and graciously put him in their living room. He had been rescued from those two Alphas, and he was eternally grateful.

He ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth, picking up a thick film. He needed to drink, but he must have forgot. He'd never ended a heat so thirsty, but it must have just been a mistake. The heavy feelings in his limbs must have been an accident, too. Omegas weren't known for their willpower or self control, especially not during heats. 

He must have just forgot, he told himself. It was easy to be forgetful, especially when you couldn't remember the past week. 

As he stretched to his feet, he wondered if this is what a hangover felt like. The other kids at school would get them, the Betas and Alphas, and they'd come to school on Monday holding their head and complaining. He wanted to complain, too, so it all finally made sense. 

What didn't make sense was the rush of pain he felt when he stood up. It caught him so off guard that he fell face first onto the carpet. He whimpered, pulling himself up to a kneeling position. He didn't understand why supporting his weight with his hands hurt his back, nor did he understand why it hurt to move his legs. 

In light of nothing making sense, he decided just to lay on the carpet and wait for who ever had helped him to come to his aide. 

"I thought I heard you fall." 

Pip perked up, flinching as he struggled to sit upright. That was Damien. Out of all the people to find him, he had the good luck to be found by Damien. He wanted to ask where he found him, if he'd made the mistake of wandering around town while in heat, or if Damien had just happened to stumble upon the tent he was sleeping in. 

Oh, he hoped Damien wasn't sour with them. They had been helpful, even if they were misguided.

"They were nice," Pip yawned, licking the roof of his mouth once he was done speaking. The film wouldn't dissipate, but he kept trying. 

"Glad to hear," Damien was smirking. "Always knew you were a minx." 

"No," Pip blushed, "I just slept in their tent. I watched them, but I didn't," he giggled nervously, "I didn't touch them." 

"You touched plenty," Damien laughed. 

"No, honest, I didn't." He didn't want Damien getting the wrong idea. He had followed his instructions, even though they weren't dating anymore. He had been faithful to a boy he wasn't even dating. 

"Oh, you did," Damien smiled, sitting on the couch. He didn't make an effort to help Pip up, nor did he offer him any water. Instead he pulled a phone out of his pocket, flicking it to life as Pip clambered up as best he could. "You want to see what you did?" 

Pip nodded, ignoring the pit growing in his stomach. He did embarrassing things during every heat; it was normal, according to the school nurse. After one heat, his family had walked in to find him pressed into a corner at the back of the closet with every scrap of clothing he owned piled on his body. He had been so ashamed at first, but it was normal.

So whatever he did that Damien thought was so funny must have been normal, too. 

When he finally got onto the couch, he realized it was not normal. What he had done was not normal at all. He gulped, covering his eyes as Damien turned the volume up. 

"You gonna be a good boy?" A male voice asked, tinny through the speakers. There was a muffled agreement, from a voice sounding like his own. He had seen the screen, he knew it was him. "I'm gonna teach you how to be good." 

"I don't want to watch this," Pip whispered over the sound of moaning, panting and screaming from the phone. "No thank you," he said louder. 

"Oh," Damien asked, stifling a laugh. What was so funny? Was him on his hands and knees for an Alpha he'd never met funny?

"No thank you," he repeated. 

"Are you embarrassed?" Damien asked. "I think it's hot." 

"What?" Pip asked, feeling his cheeks flare up as he dropped his hands to his lap. Damien was still holding the phone up and the video was playing. It wasn't hot. This was a man Pip had never ever met, and he was having sex with him. He was watching himself be screwed senseless by a stranger. The voice through the speaker, his voice, begged to be knotted, and yelped as the man, a much older man, slapped him on the ass. "I don't want to see this!" 

"Don't yell at me, baby," Damien's voice was low, but menacing as he paused the video. "You're gonna learn not to yell." Pip's stomach jumped, feeling like he was going to vomit before Damien put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Sorry, I just don't like backtalk, you know."

"I don't want to see it," Pip said, teeth clenched as he bit back tears.

"And I guess you don't want my friend sending this to other people?" Damien asked as Pip shook his head rapidly. He didn't want anyone in the whole world to see him like that. He looked like some kind of whore and he was certain that there was semen on his face as he whined and cried for the man to go harder and faster. "I'll get him to stop then, for you." 

Pip nodded. He would do anything so people didn't see that video. He didn't remember doing any of that, nor did he want to. Had Tweek and Craig done that to him? He peeked back at the screen, grimacing as he saw that the man behind him. It wasn't them, but they must have handed him over. 

"Who is that?" He asked, though a large part of him didn't want to know. He clenched his fists, letting his nails drag against his palms as he waited for a reply. 

"Just one of my friends," Damien shrugged, like there wasn't a video of him having sex with a stranger. "I found you with him," Damien added. "You went into heat and went looking for a good time. Asshole recorded it and sent it to me, then I came and got you. You should be thankful he only sent it to me, and that I knew who you were." 

"Oh my God," Pip hung his head. He couldn't believe he'd do something like that, but he was thankful. "Thank you," he whispered. "Can I have, I mean, if it's not too much trouble, could I have some water?" Damien nodded with a frown. He clicked off the phone, sliding it in his pocket as he made his way into the kitchen. 

Pip was in Damien's apartment, at least. At least he knew where he was, even if he had done some awful things in the last week. He tried to follow him, but it hurt to move, and as soon as he was on his feet he realized he was naked. 

"Did we have sex?" Pip asked, horrified. When Damien's face stayed indifferent, he started rambling. "It's okay, it's okay if we did. I want to have sex with you, I mean out of all the Alphas to have sex with you'd be the best." Pip sat back on the couch, face red as Damien handed him a water with a smirk. 

He didn't want to have sex at all, with anyone. But at least Damien had been someone he had fantasized about getting married to. If he also had sex with Damien, that'd be less of a blow. He'd imagined it before, and as long as he didn't have to watch that too. 

"We didn't, but I'd like to," Damien smiled. It looked genuine as Pip gulped down the water. "I mean, since you've had sex with my friend, I feel like it's only fair that you have sex with me." 

Pip wanted to say he wasn't ready, that he was afraid, but he couldn't find the words. He'd apparently had sex with a stranger according to Damien. So instead of saying no, he just nodded.

He hadn't even finished the glass of water he was given before Damien had him in his arms, grabbing him by the thighs as Pip straddled his waist. The glass was plucked from his hands and left on a bedside table as he was tossed onto Damien's bed. 

He yelped out in pain as he bounced against the mattress. Damien smiled, showing his teeth as he loomed over him. He did not think the butterflies in his stomach were first time jitters, but this wasn't even his first time, so he pushed it aside. It was dumb to be nervous when he'd just had relations with a stranger.

"So you like it rough?" Damien teased as he unbuttoned his shirt. 

"No. I didn't say that," Pip stammered. He sat up, knees together as Damien pulled off his pants. "I don't. I don't want that." 

"You wanted it for my friend," Damien said solemnly. 

"I didn't!" Pip yelled, throwing his hands over his mouth as Damien narrowed his yes. "I mean, I don't remember saying that."

"You did," Damien was frowning. God, he had never seen Damien frown so much in his life. Pip had told this man his whole life story and he didn't look nearly as upset then. 

"I don't remember," Pip let his head fall forward. "I don't remember saying that." 

Damien walked out of the room, that same frown etched on his face. Pip gulped, and considered momentarily to walk out of the room, and maybe down the street, and go back home. He ran his hand through his long hair when he realized he didn't have a home. After some deep calming breaths to calm himself, he pulled his hand away, catching sight of something black and red. 

He had gotten a tattoo. 

The damnedest thing, too. They were angel wings. He didn't know what his connection to those were, as he'd never been particularly religious. And even if he had been, which he wasn't, he didn't know who gave a tattoo to an Omega in heat. 

It was common knowledge that public indecency from an Omega meant calling the police. Not only had the man who found him, not called the cops, he had given him a tattoo and had sex with him while taping it. This man was Damien's friend. 

Who was Damien friends with? 

"I've got the video," Damien said, walking back into the room as Pip stared at the tattoo. He snapped his head up, looking at Damien, shirtless and the video that was playing. 

It was undeniably him, from the timbre of his voice to the way his hair stuck to his cheeks when he was sweaty. He was begging that man to have sex with him, pleading back to him whatever he asked. Damien's friend asked if he wanted to have his pups, he said yes. Damien's friend asked if he wanted to be a whore, he said yes. He just said yes, please to everything, his face contorted as that man pounded in and out of him. 

"I don't want to watch this," Pip whispered, closing his eyes. 

"We haven't even go to the rough part yet," Damien complained. Why was he making him watch this? They were supposed to be so close; they had been, at least. No one would want their boyfriend to see this; no one Pip had ever come into contact with. 

"I don't want to watch," he repeated, holding his hands over his ears. The hand with the tattoo stung as he flexed his fingers. 

"Then how will you know I'm telling the truth, darling?" Damien asked as the bed creaked. Pip could feel Damien's fingers brushing up against his abdomen, even though his hands were still linked to his head. He thought about making a move to stop it, he did, but after a few seconds, he relented and let Damien touch where he wanted. 

The video was still playing and the sounds of himself begging to be knotted filled his ears. It continued playing as Damien unzipped Pip's pants, tossing them onto the floor along with his underwear. 

"Hope I don't get a disease," Damien joked.

"You won't, I'm clean. I've never-" he was cut off by the sound of himself coming, screaming like a banshee on tape. He looked up when the sound stopped, just to see the cause of the silence was a second Alpha inserting his dick into Pip's mouth. 

"You've been naughty," Damien said as he crawled on top of him. In this moment, it was painfully clear how much bigger Damien was than him, both in general size and the size of his penis. That thing was a monster. 

"No, I don't like this," Pip stammered as Damien flipped Pip onto his stomach. "I don't like this." He repeated as Damien pressed his head into the pillow. 

"You liked it for my friend," Damien sounded so disappointed as he hitched Pip's hips into the air, shoving his knees underneath him. Pip felt every muscle in his body tighten up as something pressed at his asshole. He cried out when he was slapped on the ass, his body falling forward as Damien entered him. 

He yelled, loudly. He wasn't slick, and he could feel Damien's cock pulling at his muscles. He yelled for him to stop, that it hurt, but Damien only pushed his head further into the pillow. When Pip tried to kick his legs back to get him to stop, he fell flat. The cock slipped out of him, and he tried to curl into a ball, but couldn't.

"Stop fucking wiggling," Damien spat. Grabbing him by thighs and pulling him back into the air. "I'm gonna knot you, just like my friend did. Unless you want to show everyone that video. I can put it on PornHub, you know? Everyone can see it. Anytime anyone googles Phillip Pirrup, they'll see that video of you taking an old man's dick. Do you want that?" 

Pip didn't say anything. He didn't want any of this, he decided. He wanted to go back to that tent with those two Alphas, what were their names? He couldn't remember, but he'd liked them. They were nice to him, and they didn't do this. 

"I asked you a question!" Damien roared, pulling on Pip's hair. "Do you want me to put the video online? If your parents ever try to find you, do you want them to see that?" 

"No!" That was the last thing he wanted. He didn't want anyone to see him like this. Especially not his mother, if she was looking for him. He held out hope that she was, even though it seemed unlikely. Plan tickets to America were expensive, he figured, and they'd never really had that much money. He remembered feeling like they didn't have money. So maybe she just didn't have the money to come get him, that could have been it.

"So, if you don't want that to happen, then just lay there and enjoy the ride." 

"It hurts," Pip whimpered as he felt Damien's cock nudge at him again. "I'm not slick and it hurts." 

"It's supposed to hurt a little," Damien offered. "And you should be stretched, you had sex with so many men this week. It's not my fault if you didn't take care of yourself during your heat. That's not my fault, is it?" Pip shook his head as Damien let his hair go. "If you weren't so dehydrated, then you'd enjoy this more. It's a lesson." 

This wasn't how Damien treated him. When Pip got a B on an English essay, Damien had listened the whole time that he complained that it wasn't fair. He'd never once told him that the B was his fault, even though in hindsight, missing one of the main themes of The Scarlet Letter was grounds for a B. No, instead of pointing that out, he'd just nodded sympathetically and said that it was indeed unfair. 

He thought about saying he didn't want a lesson, but Damien was pushing into him again. He clenched his teeth as Damien moaned, sinking in until their hips were flush. He almost couldn't believe that Damien fit, but furthermore he couldn't believe people did this for fun. It wasn't fun, it was painful. 

As Damien pounded in and out of him, Pip was glad he didn't remember his heats. He couldn't imagine why he was calling out for the man to go harder in the video. He didn't want this to be harder, or more, or longer. He just wanted it to be over, and he wanted to go back to bed. 

"I bet you like this, you little slut," Damien growled. When he didn't say anything, he was popped on the ass. He squealed and Damien laughed. "That's right, tighten up. It will feel better for both of us." 

It didn't feel better for Pip. When Damien sped up, Pip blushed as he felt slick start to drip between his legs. He wasn't enjoying this. This wasn't what all of his sex ed teachers throughout the years said his first time would be like, not that this was his first time. 

"Oh God," he moaned, mostly at the knowledge that he had fucked a stranger for a week. 

"You like that, don't you, whore?" Damien asked, shoving Pip into the mattress. Pip didn't say anything, not when Damien grabbed his cock with his free hand, and started fondling him. "You gotta come before me, or you won't come at all." 

"Huh?" Pip asked, his hips tilting against his will to allow Damien better access.

"It's called a knot, dumb fuck," Damien said. He panted into Pip's ear, sending shivers down his spine. "Once I knot you, it's over." 

"Knot me." He said, feeling his brain go to mush. Damien pulling in and out had started to feel good. He arched his back, giving Damien more access. "Damien," he whined as he toyed with his balls. 

"Do you want me to try something new with you?" Pip nodded as Damien was still. "Use your words," he teased.

"Yes, please. Please, please, please," Pip whimpered, grabbing for his own cock. Damien didn't push his hand away as he pumped himself, nor did Damien resume thrusting. 

"You want have another heat?" Damien asked. "I've got some medicine, and we can redo it, just the two of us. It'd be good to redo, wouldn't it?" Pip moaned as Damien started to move again. 

He didn't think about if he wanted a new heat or not, but he cried yes over and over. The idea of Damien taking care of him for a week, of having his kids, of being mated, was enticing. Overwhelmed, he cried into the pillow, begging for it. 

"It'll stop you from getting pregnant," Damien purred. "You don't want to have his babies, I assure you," Pip nodded, as Damien leaned down to nip near his scent gland. It wasn't on it, which was what he wanted, but it was near. He cried out, exposing his neck as he felt Damien's dick start to swell.

"Oh fuck," Damien cried. "Gonna cum, fuck." 

Pip squealed as the knot inflated and he felt semen squirt into him. It hurt, but he liked Damien pressing against him, and the added security of the extra weight on top of him. It felt like the knot would never stop growing, and Pip whimpered, trying to adjust himself so that he was comfortable as his dick hung hard between his legs. 

"Be still," Damien warned.

"Damien," Pip complained, trying to grab for his dick. "Damien, it hurts." 

"I told you to cum first," Damien snapped. Pip flinched underneath him as Damien tugged away shallowly. "If you don't hush, I'll just pull out right now. After sex I like it quiet."   
   
Pip didn't think that would be enjoyable, so he nodded and laid there. His dick began to soften and he tried not to rock his hips for the friction. 

When Damien pulled out, Pip cried. The knot wasn't fully deflated, but he was done, he said. Pip turned to watch as Damien wiped himself off with the blanket, throwing his shirt back on, as he walked out of the room. Pip's bones ached as Damien returned with a glass of water. 

"That was sweet," Pip smiled, sitting up even though there was a stinging pain in his backside. "I think you'd be a good provider." 

"Medicine," Damien said gruffly. He handed Pip the glass and two small purple pills. "Something  to erase the stink of all those other Alphas." 

"Other?" Pip asked. He drank the drink and took the pills, anyways, but he didn't know what other Alphas there were. Was he talking about his friend? Pip blushed, remembering that video. He had sucked another guy, a stranger, off. He had made a fool of himself, in front of a camera. 

"You had sex with a bunch of Alphas," Damien groaned, flopping back onto the bed. "Drink that water." Pip did as he was told, finishing the glass. "You're lucky I'm even still interested in you, really." 

Pip nodded. He didn't want to be with the stranger who video taped him. He figured that'd be bad experience. They'd probably make him do degrading things like that every day. He didn't want that, not at all. 

"Can we cuddle?" Pip asked, ducking his head down so that he didn't make eye contact. He didn't want to have to own up to the mistakes he had made. He was supposed to stay a virgin for Damien, and then they'd get married, and he hadn't. He hadn't. "Like we used to?" 

"You mean before you dumped me?" Damien snorted. "I bet you wish you never would have done that." 

Pip nodded.

"You make bad decisions on your own," Damien shrugged. 

"My parents told me to," which was the truth. They told him that Damien, at age twenty six was a full ten years older than him, and that was too much of an age gap. 

"Well they were such great parents if they just kicked you out, weren't they?" Damien scoffed. "I bet they were just the best. Never question their judgement." 

"I'm sorry," Pip said, curling into Damien's side, even though he hadn't received permission. He was so exhausted as he clung to Damien, though he received no signals that Damien was enjoying it. "Sorry." 

Damien didn't respond as Pip squeezed his eyes shut, though he tossed a blanket onto Pip. 

"Thank you," Pip smiled, feeling the bed move beneath him. It sag, then sprung back as Damien left his spot. He sat up and watched him get dressed. He was attractive, Pip decided. He was taller than Pip, by about half a foot, but that seemed to be the typical Alpha height difference. He looked back and was sneering, 

Pip thought that Damien used to smile more. He didn't think that was how his first time with Damien would be, but it was just a starting point. Maybe once they get into the habit, it would be smoother.

That had to be it. 


	8. Chapter 8

Damien worked a lot. After two days of staying in his apartment, maybe more, Pip wasn't sure how he spent the entirety of his heat, but in this weird transitional time, Damien was in and out almost constantly. 

That was fine, of course. Pip didn't need constant contact, or anything. It was nice just to know he had a bed to sleep in, and that he wasn't having sex with strangers. 

Instead of strangers, it was Damien. 

Whenever Damien was at home, they were mating. In the bed, or on the couch, or bent over in the shower. Even though he had slipped and banged his chin against the tile, Damien scooped him up, and kept going until he was finished. Pip watched the blood from his cut swirl down the drain as he waited for the knot to go away. 

He was left on the bathroom floor, when it did. 

But this was his first real relationship, so he figured that this was how it went. School didn't talk a lot about how relationships actually worked, just how sex happened and how you should wait. His foster family hadn't been like this, but they weren't Alphas or Omegas. It must have been different for them. 

"I have work," Damien said as Pip slurped soup on the couch. "Rest until I get back. Don't fuck with anything." 

Pip nodded. He was too tired to dig around the apartment. He was developing a stomach ache, and maybe a bit of a fever. He waved at Damien as he left the apartment, locking the door behind him. 

He wasn't sure what kind of job Damien had, because he was back within two hours, and he went straight into the shower. He had told Pip the first time he came home, not to talk to him right after work. If Damien wanted to talk, he'd tell him. So he sat on the couch, waiting for the water to stop rushing through the pipes. 

"Pip, to bed," Damien called. Pip listened. He had been taught through school and through the other kids at the foster home, that he was supposed to be obedient. Damien was waiting, hair still wet from the shower. Pip smiled, climbing into the bed. 

"I hope you had a good day at work," Pip smiled. "What do you do, again? I've seem to have forgotten." Pip's head felt fuzzy as he laid down.  

"Marketing," Damien said curtly. "There was an emergency." 

"Oh!" Pip asked, trying to sit up. Damien placed a hand on his shoulder, holding him down so he couldn't move. "That's interesting, I guess," Pip added, pressed against the mattress. 

"It's not. There is nothing of interest about my job," Damien added. "It's just a job." 

Pip nodded as Damien climbed on top of him. They fell into the pattern of wordless sex, followed by the uncomfortable nature of being stuck with a knot. When Damien was finished, they didn't talk; they separated and Pip was ordered to stay in bed. 

As exhausted as he was, he still wanted to protest. He wanted to be with Damien. Maybe they could make dinner together, that was a couple thing to do, right? Or they could go to the store, or on a walk? He wanted to be a real couple, and do boyfriend things together. 

It would have helped if Pip knew what boyfriend things were. 

When Pip heard the TV click on, he decided he was going to check to see if maybe Damien had changed his mind. It wasn't disobeying orders; it was just double checking.

Plus he had a stomach ache that felt like the beginnings of a flu, and despite laying staring at the ceiling, he couldn't sleep. He had faint memories of going to his mother when he had trouble sleeping, and that always seemed to help. Maybe having a mate was like that. 

He rubbed his hand over the spot where a bond mark would go. Maybe he was just waiting for the perfect moment. It wasn't too romantic here, he thought as he forced himself out of bed. His legs felt like lead, but he walked into the living room, anyway. 

"Why aren't you sleeping?" Damien asked, turning off the TV before Pip could see what was on. He also took the phone away from his ear, stuffing it in his pocket. "I told you to go to sleep." 

"I know," Pip whined, standing nude in front of him. It felt ridiculous, but he didn't have any clothes here. Damien must have picked him up, and driven him home, naked. "I just don't feel good. I thought maybe we could, I dunno, do something together?" 

"We just had sex," Damien laughed. "It doesn't get more together than that." 

"But I miss you," Pip said, hands in front of his crotch. "I feel sick and I don't want to be by myself." 

"Fine," Damien said, standing up and grabbing Pip by the shoulder. There was an initial jolt of fear from the contact, but it passed. "Let's go back to bed. I guess I'll just have to fuck you right into your heat, where I'll be expected to keep fucking you for a week." 

"I'm not," Pip started as he was pulled back toward the bedroom. "I don't want to." 

"You wanted to with all of my friends," Damien spat. "So I don't know why you wouldn't want to now." 

Pip blushed, hanging his head as he was lead back to bed. He didn't like being told about what he had done during his last heat, but Damien brought it up constantly. Every time he heard a story, they seemed to get worse. He couldn't remember, so he couldn't tell if Damien was lying, or if he had lied at the start. He held out hope that it was the later. That he had just downplayed what a slut he'd been, so he wouldn't die of embarrassment. 

"Well, is there a reason you want to fuck my friends, but not me?" He asked. Pip shook his head, but made the mistake of speaking, anyways. 

"I'm just sore, and I'm tired. I'd like to just cuddle, if that's alright." 

"I wish you would have just cuddled with every dick you sucked."

Pip sucked his lip through his teeth, chewing as he thought about how much he had fucked everything up. He hadn't meant to whore himself around to a bunch of strangers, but apparently he had. Damien kept bringing up what a mess he'd made, and there was nothing he could say in his defense. He didn't feel good, but he climbed onto the bed, anyways. 

"Lay on your stomach," Damien said. It was a thinly veiled order. He was to do as he was told, so he did. He bent his knees under himself without instruction. It was what Damien had wanted every other time. 

Smack! 

It was not what he wanted this time, Pip realized as his backside stung. He recoiled, yelping and falling flat onto the comforter.

"That hurt," Pip whined. He didn't understand why he had been hit, but when he looked behind him, catching a glimpse of Damien's cruel smile, his teeth hidden, it clicked. The game to Damien was slapping Pip. He liked the noise and the crying. He assumed it was a kink, something mostly harmless. He had watched those Alphas after all, and they had seemed to enjoy it. 

"I'm aware," Damien laughed. Pip could see his hand raised and he flinched, in anticipation. "I need you to listen. Follow instructions. It's so easy that even an Omega could do it." 

Pip frowned, furrowing his brow as he pressed his face into the pillow. He heard disparaging things about Omegas in the past, and he heard them before he even presented. Grade school kids hoping not to be Omegas, middle schoolers saying that a classmate was so dumb they must be one. 

This was the first time Damien had called him stupid for his secondary sex. Before, when they were dating, he had stressed the importance of school, how he should work hard at math, even though algebra didn't seem to make sense.

Now, Damien was just emphasizing compliance over and over. The first day Pip had done the dishes, to be helpful. Damien had yelled, saying he left instructions not to touch anything. When Pip protested, Damien asked if he didn't he dishes with telekinesis. 

Pip didn't know what that was, and when he asked, he was told he was a dumb Omega. Which maybe he was dumb, he thought as his backside stung, but he didn't think he was any dumber for presenting. 

But maybe he was. 

It didn't matter, because Damien was pulling Pip's legs underneath him, knees in the same position they were in a few moments before. The sex was uneventful, save for the few times Damien called him a whore. It was dirty talk, and that's how those things went, he guessed. 

He didn't like it, but he didn't complain. His face was shoved into the pillow, anyways. It's not like he would have heard him.

When Damien knotted him, he collapsed in a heap, sending Pip back to lay flat. He'd always expected sex to be more fulfilling, but it must have just been a childhood myth. He was so sold on the whole idea that sometimes it'd start to almost feel good, but it was always over before there was any real enjoyment on his end. 

He must have only liked sex during heats. Two weeks a year to enjoy this sensation was enough. Maybe Omegas were only meant to have sex then, or maybe it was just their duty to fulfill their Alpha. He should just find joy in that.

He winced when Damien pulled away, knot still half hard. He had always been told that the Alpha would wait until the knot was fully deflated, to avoid injury. 

Not that Pip felt particularly injured. He felt sore, and tired, but not like anything was broken. It wasn't the first lie he heard in sex ed. It most have been something they told the Alphas to scare them, a tiny extra dash of fear mongering.  

Anyways, Damien must have had an important marketing call, because he changed his clothes and waltzed out the door. Pip didn't hear the phone ring, but his brother, his old ex-foster brother, had kept his phone on vibrate and he'd answer it when Pip couldn't even hear it. He wasn't sure how it worked, but maybe Damien would teach him. 

Maybe Damien would feel inclined to get Pip his own phone, so they could send messages back and forth. Texting didn't seem that hard, and even if it was, he didn't have much else to do during the day. He could spend all of his time not touching anything in the house, and master texting, no matter how difficult it was. 

He didn't bother to shower before rolling onto his back. The bed was filthy, but he knew better to snoop around for the washer. It was like Damien had some kind of secret. Pip yawned, curling in on himself after deciding he was too warm for a blanket. 

He dozed in and out, staying in the hazy place of half consciousness until he heard the front door click open. He sat up, and immediately felt like he was going to hurl. He raced to the bathroom, and clutched the toilet with both hands as he wretched. 

When he felt the toe of a shoe on his back, he figured that he should have just vomited in bed. It wasn't hard, nor did it hurt, but it was a strange way to provide comfort. Damien had been so good at comfort. When Pip had complained about how unfair his family was, and how hard school was, Damien had nodded apologetically with a half smile. It was a far cry from being tapped with a shoe. 

"Told you to stay in bed," Damien muttered. Pip could hear a shirt hit the tile floor as he vomited again. He felt awful, and he wasn't sure why. 

"Sorry, don't feel good," Pip coughed, wiping his mouth with his arm. "I'll go back, after." He didn't ask for water, but to be honest, he wasn't sure his stomach could hold anything. 

"Go back," Damien said, turning on the water for the shower. "Go rest." 

The more Pip heard the water splash onto the floor, the more he wanted a shower. He rose to his feet, unsteady, and wobbled to the shower stall. Damien smirked outside, leaning against the sink as Pip stumbled inside. 

"Is this resting?" Damien asked. Pip shook his head. The movement made him feel sick, again. He heaved, buckling in half as he slipped forward in the shower. The arms around his waist were unexpected, but appreciated. He didn't want to fall again. Not when he already felt this bad. 

"You're filthy, you know?" Pip didn't say anything, and he didn't shake his head, either. He stood still as Damien stepped into the shower. Pip could see that his shoes were still on, as were his pants. He obviously cared, at least a little, Pip told himself. If he was completely indifferent, then he would have let him fall. "I'll clean you up, and we can go to bed." 

"Just sleep," Pip said, voice raw. He didn't want to have anymore sex. He didn't have the energy, and he hoped that Damien didn't either. 

"We can fuck when you wake up," Damien chuckled. "Your heat must be here." 

"Just had a heat," Pip whispered as Damien raked his hands through his long hair. He was shoved directly under the water, without warning. He tried to hold his breath as shampoo was worked through his hair, but he kept trying to open his eyes. He sputtered, crying out as soap ran into his eyes.

Damien wasn't particularly careful as he washed him, but at least he was being washed. He didn't complain as he was wrapped in a towel and put into the back of a closet. Damien left, leaving Pip blinking rapidly to try to accustom his eyes to the darkness. 

He returned with a basket , which he promptly dumped over Pip's head. Pip ducked, fearing some sort of reprisal for getting out of bed. He held his breath until everything had fallen to the floor. When finally looked up, he realized what he had been given. 

Dirty laundry. 

"What's?" Pip asked, dazed as he started to sift through it. It was Damien's, at least it smelled like it was Damien's. 

"You're about to have a heat, stupid," Damien said, pulling the basket away and walking out of the closet. He returned as Pip was still sifting through the items, holding each individual article to his face and sniffing. 

"No," Pip said. He put the clothes that passed the sniff test into a pile behind him, and tossed ones that smelled off in front of him. Some of them he could swear he smelled another Omega. But it wasn't a steady scent, it was like he was smelling a dozen different Omegas. He shrugged it off, throwing those shirts to the side. He must have just worked with Omegas. Smell wore off on people; it wasn't a huge deal. 

"Yes," Damien chuckled as Pip reached the bottom of the basket. Pip jumped. He had forgotten that he was there, he had been so quiet. 

"I just had one," Pip said, arranging everything around him. He froze, and looked at the circle of clothing he had made. This was certainly something he'd do in a heat. 

"You took that medication, idiot." Pip frowned, he didn't like being told he was stupid, even if maybe he was a bit slower than average. "You don't remember? You came out of your heat crying not to have a strangers pups, and I went and got it, specially for you." 

Pip shook his head. All of his time with Damien was a blur. He couldn't think of any medication, but that didn't mean it didn't happen. He smiled meekly, and looked up at Damien. If Damien said that's what happened, then he guessed that was that. 

"What? You want to have some strangers kids? Is that why you're shaking your head? What are you going to do, just milk food stamps and public housing until you die?" 

"No, I didn't say that. I don't want that. I just don't understand why I'm having another heat. I don't remember, but you must be right. I don't want to do that." Honestly, Pip didn't want to have any children at eighteen. They had been taught to wait, that the longer you waited to have kids, the happier you would be, long term. 

"This is how you stop a pregnancy. Don't you know anything?" Pip shook his head. He had never been taught how you stopped a pregnancy, just that it was wrong. His family had talked about it, not that they were his family still, and they had said it was a sin. That he'd go to hell, and while he wasn't sure if that was true or not, he still felt guilty. 

"Just go to bed," Damien stepped away again, until he was out of view. "I'll come help you when you start crying for dick." 

Pip didn't like sound of that, but he diligently made his nest, anyway. 


	9. Chapter 9

It was hot.  
  
He was hot, and the person on top of him was hot.   
  
It was hot, but he was comfortable. 

* * *

 

  
  
"Fuck," Pip groaned. He gagged, almost instantaneously. He fumbled forward, vomiting all over his legs. He could feel someone's arms around his waist, keeping him steady. He blinked his eyes open as he heaved again, and he wasn't in Damien's apartment.   
  
When he finally stopped vomiting, he inhaled through his nose, and the person holding him wasn't Damien, either.   
  
"A dream?" He asked, licking the roof of his mouth in an attempt to clear the taste. It wasn't working, but he kept trying. When the arms let go of his waist, he folded in on himself like a cheap chair, face first into a duvet. 

"Or nightmare," a voice said, probably male, Pip decided. It was a little high, but not so high as to be girly. The words were slurred, and he knew that if he could just gather the strength to sit up he could survey the situation, he could actually be certain if the person he was in the room with was a man or a woman.   
  
He sniffed again, and underneath the undercurrent of stomach acid and himself, he could smell just one other person, and Omega. Or they smelled like an Omega. They might have been an Alpha who ordered those pheromone sprays they offered up on late night infomercials. Two squirts on your pillow and it's just like a real Omega is in the room.   
  
He wasn't sure that those actually worked, but he'd seen the advertisements. He was certain that everyone had seen them.

"Drink," the voice said. He mumbled something and wiggled his legs. He could feel the vomit, which thankfully was mostly water, run down the underside of his knees. "Drink then shower."   
  
 When he didn't move, the stranger grabbed him by the shoulders and held him upright. Pip opened his eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the low light of what, judging by the lamp and the dresser TV combination, was a hotel room.   
  
He was face to face with a boy, and he was an Omega. Or he was a small Beta in drag. Pip wasn't sure, but he had short blonde hair, a tank top, and his eyes drooped as he looked hazily at Pip. He held out a small plastic cup that swayed in his hand, the water sloshing out of the sides.   
  
It didn't seem to bother him, as he moved the cup to Pip's lips. He didn't wait for Pip to open his mouth, he just tilted the cup, which ran down his front and made more of a mess onto the bed.   
  
By the second half of the water, he opened his mouth and began gulping. He was thirsty, though he hadn't realized it. When he felt the water trail down his chest and fall into his lap, he also realized that he was nude.   
  
Because who didn't wake up disoriented and nude in a hotel room with a stranger. Pip thought to scream, but his throat was raw when he opened his mouth, and it came out as more of a raspy noise.   
  
"I know, I know," the man said, letting his words run together. "Me too, me too. That's just how it is, you know? It's just," he paused, looking around the room and gesturing. He didn't finish the sentence.   
  
Fear bubbled in Pip's belly as he realized he couldn't scream. He couldn't do anything. When the man pulled on him, he couldn't even get up off of the bed.   
  
"Man, I just," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. He didn't finish that statement either, but he walked toward the door, shaking his head. He mumbled something out into the hallway, and waited. He leaned against the door frame as Pip felt himself collapse inward again.   
  
His head ached as he unfortunately fell face first into his own vomit.   
  
"What's wrong with him?" A new voice asked. It was male, and familiar. He'd heard it before, but he couldn't place it. When it came closer, he tensed, trying to pull himself upright. He couldn't, and only slumped forward further.   
  
"Sick, I guess," the Omega said. "He's sick. You know," his words slurred together, "I'm gonna get sick if I don't," he yawned, "get more, you know?"   
  
"Fucking junkie. You gotta work for more, Thomas," the other voice laughed, as he grabbed Pip by the shoulders. He pulled him upwards, then grabbed underneath his armpits. "God, D really took you for a ride, didn't he?"   
  
"D?" Pip croaked as he was pulled off of the bed and carried across the room. He tried not to open his eyes, anything to try to quell the nausea. It didn't work, and he could feel his stomach lurch again.   
  
"Swallow that shit down. I am not the handler you want to throw up on," the voice warned. Pip did as he was told, which just made it worse. A male voice giving him an order was to be respected, he decided. He didn't want to get in trouble. He didn't know what trouble entailed, but it was never good.    
  
"He's too heavy to carry," the Omega whined. "He's heavy and sick."   
  
"You're too high to do your job," the man snapped back. Pip felt himself lull back to sleep as bathwater started to run. "I'm gonna put him in the tub, and your job is to get him clean for tonight, got it?"   
  
"Yes, Kenny," the Omega said as Pip dozed off on the strangers shoulder. He barely stirred when he was dropped in the water. 

* * *

 

 

"Hey, _fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_ " Someone was shaking Pip. Hard. " _Fuck!_ Get up! Get, _motherfucker! Motherfucker!_ Up!"   
  
Pip batted his eyes open. He had never heard so many curse words in a row. When he saw who was in front of him, a blonde Omega male, he didn't understand why he was cursing. He was so loud, and his hands were still on him, shaking.   
  
"We have a, _fuck,_ job! Work! We have to, _titties!_ _Dick titties!_ Work!" Pip didn't understand why the boy was twitching inward as he spoke. He kept screaming, and cursing. So much cursing.   
  
"Where am I?" Pip asked. It hurt to move his head to survey the room. He was pulled into a sitting position and it looked like a motel room. He'd stayed in one, back when he was a little kid. He was new to America, fresh off the air plane, and there was no room at the group home, so Pip and a social worker had stayed in a Motel 6.   
  
It looked like the other guy, the one cursing and holding him, lived here.   
  
" _Fuck!_ " He shouted. " _Fuck!_ " He looked around the room as Pip looked toward the open closet. The door was open, and there weren't clothes that Pip would have ever owned. He saw a few dresses, and it seemed out of place.   
  
He glanced down, and shrieked. "Good God, I'm naked!"   
  
"I know! I, _fuck!_ I, _fuck! Asshole! Asshole!_ I know!" The man shouted as he got off of the bed. He shook as he walked, like he was going to collapse in on himself as he crossed the room. "D is gonna, _fuck!_ Kill me."   
  
"Whose D?" Pip asked as an outfit was tossed in his direction. "It's illegal to kill people. He won't really hurt you, mate."   
  
"Hah!" He blurted out as Pip tried to force himself into a halter top. He thought these were for girls. He didn't know they made them in boy's sizes. It was black, and while loose around his chest, it stayed up well enough. There was elastic, and Pip didn't think he'd ever seen elastic clothes in any store he'd ever shopped in. Not that he'd done that much shopping in his time. "Put it, _fuck!_ On!"   
  
"This?" Pip asked, holding a skirt. The other man nodded. "I don't have any undergarments."   
  
"Don't care. _Fuck! Fuck! Shit! Asshole!_ " The boy twitched with every word as Pip tried to maneuver his legs into the skirt. At least he didn't have to bother to thread himself through pants, he thought. It felt odd to wear a skirt with no underpants, he decided. He had never worn a skirt with underwear, so it was hard to tell if it would have been more comfortable that way.   
  
" _Fuck!_ Shoes! _Fuck!_ Man, you're new. You're new. _Fuck! Shit!_ " The boy bent over the closet and pulled out a pair of heels. He rushed back to Pip, pulling his legs over the side of the bed, and fastening a myriad of buckles and straps.   
  
"I'm not a girl," Pip said. Maybe he was confused. Once Pip surveyed the man, he realized he was in girl's clothing, too. The point of a v-neck shirt was to show off cleavage, but he didn't appear to have any.   
  
"You are tonight," the man said, followed by a string of curses. Pip counted the word slut at least five times as he was pulled to his feet.  He teetered, grabbing onto this stranger for support. With great effort, he managed to get out of the room, where a familiar face was on the other side of the door. 

"Damien!" Pip squealed. "Oh goodness, it's so good to see you. I was so confused! I just woke up here, and I was naked. Can you believe it?"   
  
Damien didn't even smile as they made eye contact. When Pip walked toward him, he didn't make a move to grab him, nor did he offer any kind of physical affection. He'd never heard of a mate being frosty after sex. Alphas were supposed to like sex, which meant that they liked Omegas afterwards.   
  
"Stop." The other man grabbed him by the back of his halter top, pulling him back into the doorway. "It's not, _fuck! Fuck! Dumb slut! Dumb slut!_ " He was slapped on the back by the man, which pushed him just enough off balance to fall right into Damien.   
  
Who let him fall flat to the floor.  
  
"It's time to work, Phillip," was all Damien said as the stranger scrambled to pull him to his feet.   
  


* * *

 

 

  
  
Whatever Pip thought working as an adult was like, this was not it. Sitting in a lobby, with six strange women and the man from the hotel room, was odd. The man stood next to him, but after a brief moment alone with Kenny, a Beta who had helped them to the lobby, he wasn't cursing.   
  
Instead he was slumped over in his seat and smiling. He mumbled occasionally, telling Pip to be cool, or smile at men who would walk around the room. What was the point of working if all it was was sitting in a room, waiting? What even where they waiting for?   
  
The women would walk out of the room with the men, and then they'd come back without them. Kenny would nod at them as they took their seats. After what felt like millennia of waiting, watching the women in their high heels walk gracefully out of the room on some man's arm, Damien came into the room.   
  
When Pip waved, he didn't wave back.   
  
"Don't wave to him," the man next to him said. He sounded tired, and the more Pip sat still, the tireder he got. "He's not, whatever you think, he's not."   
  
"I'm afraid I don't understand," Pip said.   
  
"Me too."   
  
"Why are there no takers?" Damien asked, walking past them. Kenny shrugged his shoulders as Pip tried to sit up straight on the couch.   
  
"People don't want to get caught with a boy?" Kenny offered as Pip picked at his nails. He had been looking at Damien, but the lack of acknowledgment made something turn in his belly. "I don't know why you picked up a second. We have a hard enough time keeping Thomas busy."   
  
"Are you telling me how to run my business?" Damien sneered. Pip wondered if he was supposed to be walking with those men. None of them were looking towards him or Thomas, and it felt rude to invite himself to walk. None of the girls were doing that.   
  
"No sir," Kenny said, eyes fixed at the floor. Pip checked, there wasn't anything particularly interesting there.  
  
"I'm looking at getting a property in Boulder. It might better." Damien shrugged. "If not, I've made my money off of Pip."   
  
"Oh, jolly good," Pip smiled. He was glad that somehow he'd been useful, though he didn't understand how. The man next to him elbowed him in the stomach, causing him to double over with an _oof_.   
  
"Don't talk to them," the man whispered. He wasn't a good whisperer, but Damien nor Kenny said anything.   
  
"And Thomas has a market, even if it's reservation, only."   
  
"Just don't see why you needed two males," Kenny said. Pip flinched when Damien's hand clasped Kenny on the back, hard enough to sound like a slap.   
  
"Because the universe gifted me a perfectly fine male, with no attachments. I'm the boss and you're the handler, because you don't see whats thrown into your lap. I worked Pip far before you caught Thomas. Which is why Pip is sober."   
  
"You said you wanted a boy," Kenny shrugged. Kenny shrugged a lot, Pip found. Pip also didn't know what Damien meant by working him, but it made him smile, so it must have been good. "I did what I could."   
  
"And you did fine," Damien interjected. "You did fine, but Pip is an improvement."   
  
"He seems a little slow," Kenny said. Pip frowned. He didn't think he was slow, but maybe he was. "I mean, he just seems off."   
  
"He's loyal," Damien said. Pip was loyal, so he nodded. He didn't know why they weren't including him in this conversation.  
  
"Is he even good?" Kenny asked. Pip didn't know what that meant, and he didn't know why Thomas was giggling.   
  
"You know what," Damien hit Kenny's back again, "try him out. Take a test run. My treat."   
  
"You heard him," Kenny laughed, pulling Pip up by the arm. "Are you a minx?"   
  
"A mink?" Pip asked, teetering on his feet as Kenny linked his arm. He was pretty sure that a mink was a cat, and he was not a cat.   
  
"He's gonna be great, I can tell," Kenny laughed, pulling him down a hallway. Pip stumbled, but Kenny grabbed him by the waist, hoisting him back to his feet.   
  
"Use a rubber, for fuck's sake. He's still clean."   
  
"Oh," Pip gulped. This was what this was. This was the job.  
  
"You're all broke in, right? Two heats would break any Omega in," Kenny laughed, opening a door. Inside was a bed and a bedside table with a lamp, and nothing else.  There was no other furniture, no dresser or TV, just the bed and the table.   
  
Pip didn't know what he thought he was doing, but when Kenny bent him over the bed, pushing the skirt up, he didn't think about anything. He didn't think he even made any noise.   
  
It wasn't the first time. He remembered having sex with Damien. He remembered laying in bed, and he remembered foggy bits of his heat, the warmth of someone else, the smell of an Alpha. This time, as Kenny moved, Pip breathed through his mouth. He didn't smell anything, and his eyes were shut.   
  
When it was over, he was stood up, and walked back into the lobby. The man from the hotel room was still there. Pip didn't look up to see his face. He didn't look at anyone as he made his way back to his spot. When the man patted his leg, he didn't move. He didn't respond when he said sorry.   
  
"He's like a dead fish. If he's gonna just lay there silently, then might as well just buy a pocket pussy. They're cheaper than a person."   
  
"He was good in his heats," Damien said. Pip felt his face flush. Was he good during his heats? He remembered it being enjoyable then. Bent over the bed was not enjoyable, not in the slightest. "Thomas will teach him, won't you?"   
  
It was silent, then the sound of skin on skin and a yelp.   
  
"Yes sir. Yes sir," Thomas said. The couch moved as he sat up as straight as he could.   
  
"That's my favorite little junkie," Damien cooed. "Such a good listener."   
  
Pip didn't know if Thomas could teach him anything, or if Thomas would. He seemed nice enough. He helped Pip get dressed, and he had vague memories of being bathed.   
  
"Improve or find a new place to live," Damien said, touching Pip for the first time of the evening. He ruffled his hair, then left the hotel, the bell to the door dinging as he walked out.   
  
No one else took Pip out that evening.  
  
Thomas left twice, and each time he came back with Kenny. He was always smiling as he sat down, like he'd been told a great secret. He didn't tell Pip what it was, and maybe he didn't want to know.   
  
When they were done, Kenny took them to their room, and another man took the girls away. They were pretty girls, with long hair and long legs. From far away they looked like the ladies on TV, but up close they just looked sad.   
  
"We're roommates," Thomas said, eyes half closed. He must have been tired. Pip was tired.   
  
"Oh, that's nice," Pip hummed. There was only one bed, which must have been Thomas'. He was used to getting the short end of the stick, so sleeping on the floor was no new thing. Once his foster family had taken him on a trip to see his foster brother's grandma, and he slept on the floor there. It was fine.   
  
He didn't see any spare blankets or pillows, but after the night he had, he didn't think that was too important. Just sleeping on the floor would be fine, and maybe tomorrow he could ask Kenny to bring him something. Or he could just go without indefinitely. That'd be fine, too.   
  
Anything to not talk to Kenny.   
  
He sat on the floor and took the shoes off, and carefully walked them back to Thomas' closet. He guessed they were sharing the closet, too. Not that Pip had any clothes. He didn't want to sleep on the floor naked, so he figured that wearing the outfit he'd been given was okay.   
  
"What are you doing, pocket pussy?" Thomas giggled, climbing onto the bed. He was naked, save for a pair of underwear.  
  
"Sleep," Pip said. He was at least trying to sleep. He didn't have the energy to explain that. He didn't want to talk. He didn't really want to exist.   
  
"Get on the bed, dumbfuck," he joked. "Get it? Because you're not good at it?"   
  
Pip did get it. He stayed on the floor, anyways, but he got the joke.   
  
"What, hurt your feelings?" Thomas hung off the side of the bed, looking down at him. "I have extra, if you want. You can have, _fuck_ , a little. Just a little. I need it to be okay. But you need," he paused, narrowing his eyes, "you need to be okay."   
  
"Fine," Pip said, rolling away from him. He stared at the wall, which was blank. The room was not decorated, at all. He was used to undecorated rooms, but they were usually his own. "I'm fine." 

"You're not," Thomas argued. "I'll get my needle, just sit still, okay? Be still, and, hah, and hope I don't tic." He turned back to see Thomas smiling as he got out of the bed, and rummaged around the dresser. "You're gonna be, _dumbfuck!_ Okay,"   
  
Pip wanted to argue that he wasn't a dumbfuck, but he didn't. Maybe he was. Maybe whatever Thomas was going to do would make him feel better. Then, like he was traveling through molasses, it all clicked together.   
  
Thomas was trying to give him drugs.   
  
Thomas had been high for most of the day.   
  
Being high was how Thomas handled having sex with men.   
  
Apparently Thomas was good at it, because they hadn't publicly shamed him. Damien, who Pip was certain was not his boyfriend, nor had he ever been his boyfriend, sold people for money. When Pip would brag to the few kids at school he talk to that he had an older boyfriend, what he was really bragging about, was having a pimp.   
  
"I don't do drugs," Pip blurted out as Thomas knelt on the floor. He was pretty, but the closer he got, the less pretty he was. His arms looked like he scratched them raw, and his hair was stiff, and he was skinny. Skinnier than anyone Pip had ever seen in the locker room. 

"You wanna start?" He asked. There was a lighter, and some powder, and Pip watched in awe as Thomas doled it out onto a spoon, then injected himself with a needle. Like it wasn't terrifying. His whole life, Pip had dreaded getting jabs from the doctor, and Thomas looked excited. 

"No thanks," Pip stammered. He didn't think drugs would help his situation. They had coached him at school to always say no. No matter what, just say no. He figured being a prostitute still fell under no matter what. "Oh my God," he whispered. He felt like he was going to be sick. He hadn't even eaten anything recently, not that he could remember, and still his stomach heaved.   
  
"What's it, dumbfuck?" Thomas giggled. Instead of climbing back onto the bed, he just sat on the floor, against the wall, with his head lulled back. He wasn't even looking at Pip when he spoke.   
  
"We're prostitutes," Pip said, deciding to not mention the nickname. On the list of priorities, being called something crass was fairly low. And Thomas in his own strange way had tried to be nice. The other kids at school had always joked that no one would share their drugs with you, that they were too expensive.   
  
Were they going to get money for this? It didn't seem like they would, from the way that Kenny hovered near the door taking bills from the men.   
  
"Just sleep," Thomas said, smiling as he looked forward for a few moments. "You can, have the bed. I'm good here. Night, dumbfuck."   
  
Pip nodded. That was gracious in it's own strained way, he supposed. Gratefully, he climbed up, and collapsed into a heap. He wanted to rearrange and get comfortable, but he was asleep within moments of hitting the bed. 


	10. Chapter 10

"It gets easier," who ever was talking, their words lulled and swayed, like they were drunk. Pip's foster mom used to get drunk, only sometimes, and she'd talk like that, but she laughed more. Pip never told the social worker she drank.   
  
Maybe he should have.  
  
As he blinked awake, he tried to remember where he was. Something bunched around his waist, and no matter how wiggled his body, it was still there. He sleepily moved his hand there, and it was fabric. He straightened it out after some hesitation, and realized it was a skirt.   
  
He was wearing a skirt.   
  
The same skirt as last night. Last night someone he had sex with a stranger. Well, a stranger to him, but someone that Damien knew. And Damien was not his friend, he remembered. They weren't boyfriends, either. They weren't anything.   
  
And the person hovering over him was an Omega. He sniffed the air to confirm. It was the boy who spent most of the night sitting with him in that weird lobby. And his new nickname was dumbfuck. The boy who cursed a lot called him dumbfuck as he went to bed, just like that Damien's friend, Kenny had.   
  
"It gets easier," the boy repeated. "It does. You start getting up, and _fuck!_ And it's okay."   
  
Pip didn't know if that was true, but the boy talking really seemed to think it was.   
  
His stomach rumbled as he tried to sit up. His vision swam as he blinked away, and his heaved as his feet touched the floor. Today wasn't a day that felt okay. From where he was sitting, hungry, thirsty and exhausted, it didn't look like it'd be okay at any time in the near future.   
  
"Bathroom?" He croaked. He nodded as the boy, who was absolutely naked like it was a normal occurrence to wake up nude with a stranger, pointed toward the the door on the far side. Maybe to him, this was normal. Pip didn't know how many other men passed through this room. Maybe in a week he'd be gone. He didn't know where he'd go to, but maybe he wouldn't be here. If it was just a resting spot, then it'd be okay.   
  
Unless the next spot was worse. Unless the next place he went he was always having sex, or he was just dead. They could kill him, he figured as he opened the bathroom door. Before he went to the bathroom he cupped his hand under the sink and gulped water. He drank for a good thirty seconds, water dripping down his face and running down his chest. He wasn't wearing a shirt, though he remembered going to sleep in one.   
  
He glanced up in the mirror, grimacing at the black bags under his eyes. He looked sick, and even after drinking all that water, he felt sick. He usually felt shitty coming out of a heat, but this was different. It was worse, more intense. Was it because he'd spent it with someone. Did Damien intentionally make him sick?   
  
A week ago, he'd have never though that Damien would do that, but now he wasn't so sure. Maybe he was poisoned. Maybe this stranger cycled through roommates because Damien always killed the other person off. Maybe he'd be dead soon.   
  
If this was what he had to look forward to, he halfway hoped he would.   
  
No, he took that back. He didn't mean he wanted to die. Because he didn't. He loved his life, and one day he'd look back and think about what a funny hiccup this was. He'd talk about it with his soulmate, who was most certainly not Damien, and they'd chuckle and say how grateful they were that it was over.   
  
Maybe he'd meet his soulmate today. That was Pip's favorite game to play when single. Sure, Damien was the only person he ever dated, but that just meant he had lots of chances to meet someone still. Lots of people had premarital sex, now, so that wouldn't be a problem. He'd calmly explain the situation, and if someone loved him, then they'd understand.   
  
"Is your dick broken?" The boy asked, opening the door to the bathroom. It was not broken, as he stared at himself in the mirror. What if he had been on the toilet? Did this guy not care? He supposed as he waltzed into the room, hopping onto the counter around the sink, nude, that no, he did not care.   
  
"No," Pip said. "I'm not- it's not." He wasn't going to pee in front of this stranger, but he was sure it still worked. Dicks didn't just stop working. Did they?   
  
"Then why, _fuck!_ Why were you so bad?"   
  
"Bad?" Pip asked. Had he upset his new stranger roommate already? He didn't think so, but maybe. He hadn't even really spoke to him, but maybe he was offended. "I'm sorry to offend you," he offered as he stared into the mirror. He did not look at the man's bareback, not for very long.   
  
"Kenny said," he waved his hand as he reached into a drawer, pulling out a black case. "He said, _damnit!_ You were bad. Bad at sex."  
  
Pip did not understand his use of profanity, but nodded anyways. He didn't think he was bad at sex, but it's not like he had ever had any practice. Good things take time to perfect, and he hadn't had any time. People weren't born just magically good at sex, were they? He'd seen magazine articles at the grocers that boasted ways to fix a dull marriage in the bedroom, so he figured that it was a skill.   
  
A learned skill.   
  
"They want me, _fuck!_ To teach you," the man sighed, opening the case. Pip blinked a few times, looking down at what appeared to be a needle and a spoon along with other trinkets.   
  
"Are you using drugs?" Pip asked, dumbstruck. "Those are illegal."   
  
"Prostitution, _dumbfuck!_ Is illegal," he said, grinning at a lighter. "We are illegal, so we should do illegal things. Do you want some?"  
  
Pip did not want any. He vaguely remembered saying no last night, and he didn't feel off today, so he figured that he didn't have any. Surely he'd be able to feel whatever drug that was in his system. He couldn't help watching the stranger inject his arm, and then relax with his shoulders falling forward.   
  
He went to the bathroom like Pip wasn't even in the room, then waltzed back to the bedroom and collapsed on the bed in a heap, pulling the blankets around himself in a nest. He burrowed into the pile, then patted beside himself to a cleared space.   
  
When Pip didn't move, still awestruck by the whole situation, he shouted for him.   
  
"Dumbfuck!" He grinned. He looked good while smiling, Pip thought, even if he hated that name. "Come lay. We can watch TV."   
  
"TV?" Pip asked, creeping out of the bathroom with the skirt smoothed down beneath his hands. There was a small flat TV on the other side of the room. He guessed it was a hotel, after all. All hotels had TVs, or that's how movies made it seem.   
  
"Yeah, we have television. It's fancy. Cable."   
  
"Cable?" Pip asked, sitting on the side of the bed.   
  
"Yeah, so we can watch bad daytime TV and," he yawned, wrapping an arm around Pip, "and I can teach you how to use your body."   
  
"I know how to use my body," Pip said, still perched on the side of the bed. He didn't like this stranger touching him, even if he was high. Maybe he liked it less because he was high, Pip wasn't sure.   
  
"No," he shook his head dramatically as he flicked on the television. "No, if you did, then Kenny wouldn't have complained."   
  
"I didn't like Kenny," Pip said, chewing on his lip. He couldn't remember Kenny touching him anywhere but the waist, and then his behind, and then inside him. And that's all he could remember, really. He didn't want to remember it, but it came over him like a wave, surrounding him. Kenny had sex with him, and he then said it was bad.  
  
"Well," the man hummed, using his arm to hook him further into bed. Pip fell backwards, toppling onto him as a daytime court show played in the background. "Well, bottoming is easiest, so we're going to start there."   
  
"What are we doing?" Pip asked as the man lazily pushed him down, where his head was on the pillow staring up at the watermarks on the ceiling.   
  
"You gotta learn," he said, placing a soft kiss on Pip's forehead. "Sorry, you have to learn. Sorry. Better to learn from me, than them."  
  
"Who are you? What are we doing?" Pip asked, even though he knew full well what was about to happen. Maybe it'd be different with an Omega. Maybe he'd enjoy it. He could hazily remember enjoying the last few moments of sex with Damien, how it always seemed to stop before the good part.  
  
"Shhhh," he placed a hand on Pip's mouth, frowning. "I'm Thomas. I'm your friend, _dumbfuck!_ Thomas."  
  
Pip didn't look at Thomas' face as he slid down on top of Pip. He listened to the bickering in the background, something about property rights, as the skirt slid off his legs. He didn't help, but he didn't think resistance would do him any good. He was still as Thomas groped his ass, and he didn't move when his legs were hitched up over his shoulders.  
  
He did think as he probed at him, that they weren't friends. A friend wouldn't hurt him, and a friend wouldn't make him have sex. A friend wouldn't offer another friend drugs. They weren't friends; they were roommates. As Thomas writhed on top of him, he just thought about how he'd imagined his first roommate.  
  
They'd be college freshmen, together. He'd already taken the personality survey for CSU and they were going to match him with someone. They'd be different majors, but they'd have a lot in common. Maybe they'd like the same music. Pip listened to a lot of Brit Rock, and maybe he'd even be British. He'd never met an male Omega, and he'd definitely be one.   
  
But instead, as the man seized on top of him and then collapsed, he realized he had met a male Omega, and that he hadn't attended high school in god knows how long, and he wasn't going to be able to go to college. Once Thomas collapsed, arms on either side of him, and his head on Pip's chest, Pip started sobbing.   
  
This was not how anything was supposed to go. He was going to get a good job, maybe be a nurse, since that was a thing that made a lot of money Omegas were allowed to do, and then he'd visit England. Maybe he'd even see his Mom, just like bump into her on the street. They'd chat and she'd be so overcome with relief that he was there, and she'd tell him that she tried so hard to find him, and she never gave up hope.   
  
"You are bad at this," Thomas mumbled into his chest. "Like really bad."   
  
Pip didn't respond. He just sniffed up the snot threatening to run down his face, and willed himself to stop crying. He didn't even move his hand to wipe away the tears. Was he supposed to be happy he was bad at being a whore? He wasn't. Once he had finally finished crying, he didn't feel anything.   
  
He wasn't even hungry as an ad for McDonald's played in the background. 


	11. Chapter 11

Pip just wasn't good at having sex with strangers.   
  
He had never thought about if he'd be good in bed or not, but when Alphas grumbled as they walked out of the room, mumbling about how they wanted a refund, he assumed he was not. When the third Alpha left the room and Damien came in, he knew he was bad.   
  
"Phillip," Damien smiled, but his voice was a growl. "Phillip."   
  
Pip didn't respond. He sat on the bed, knees under his chin, still naked. He never redressed after the first Alpha took off his clothes; he didn't see the point. The next guy was just going to take them off, so they might as well just stay off.   
  
"What are you doing?" Damien asked as Pip stared at the wall. He wanted to say that he was having sex with strangers, just like he wanted. He was letting people he didn't know or like, touch him, just like he wanted. "Why are you making them angry? Making them angry makes me angry."   
  
Pip just stared straight ahead. When Damien stood in front of him, blocking his view of the beige wall, he kept staring. Damien's torso wasn't special, but he wasn't really looking at the wall. He wasn't really here. And when Damien grabbed him by the shoulders he didn't flinch. He didn't wince as he was hastily redressed, nor did he make a peep as Damien paraded him out of the room.  
  
He did sigh when Thomas jumped in front of them in the lobby, pupils blown.  
  
"No, no, _dumbfuck!_ No, no, no," he babbled, looking past Pip and staring at Damien. "No," he repeated, firmer. "I can teach him. Don't, _fuck!_ Hurt him."   
  
"Go sit in your spot," Damien warned, tone even. Pip looked at Thomas and tried to smile as Damien put his hand on his shoulder and directed them out of the hotel.   
  
The night air was cold, but Pip didn't mind. Maybe this would be the last thing he felt, cold air against his bare skin as he hobbled out into a back alley in heels with his boss. He didn't check to see if Damien had a gun, but who would have a hotel full of prostitutes and no gun?   
  
"Kneel," Damien ordered, pressing on Pip's shoulder. When Pip was still, he repeated himself and shoved Pip to the ground.   
  
Catching himself with his elbows was not ideal, nor was Damien's hand on the back of his head, holding him down. Damien walked around him, smelling enraged, and Pip gulped.  
  
This was it. The end of his story was being shot in a back alley by a man who he thought was his ex boyfriend, but was actually a pimp. It would make a good story, he thought numbly. Maybe before all of this he would have paid money to see it in theaters.  
  
Now he was content, well content was not the word, to just wait.  
  
He had been numb ever since Thomas tried to teach him. He just laid there and followed instructions, so when Thomas woke up earlier this evening and started screaming and cursing about how they were late, he calmly got dressed in whatever was thrown at him.   
  
In fairness to Thomas, maybe he'd been numb ever since Kenny had sex with him. Sure Thomas didn't help, but it wasn't fair to place all the blame at his feet. Pip wanted to smirk at the concept of fairness. He was about to be shot in an alley and then discarded somewhere, so what did fairness really mean?   
  
He was going to die in a halter top and a pair of shorts that left very little to the imagination. That was fine, he supposed, even if it wasn't fair. He figured he was going to die a few weeks ago, by those strangers who found him, so he'd already cheated whoever out of time. It hadn't been good time, but it was time.   
  
"I'm calling Kenny," Damien whispered, pulling Pip up by the hair. Once Pip was truly kneeling, as were the instructions, he crouched down and made eye contact.  "Don't move." Pip didn't move. He didn't nod to acknowledge Damien's snarl, nor did he move to wipe at his forearms as they bled. He just waited on his knees for whatever to happen to happen.  
  
Damien talked on the phone for a few moments, sharp whispers and words Pip couldn't be bothered to understand. He wanted to think about something good before he passed. He couldn't conjure up what a good last thought would be. Did he want to think about his family?   
  
No. A resounding no. They had all basically abandoned him. What mother sends their small child alone overseas? Not a good one. He wouldn't do that, especially if his kid didn't know his address. He'd always secretly feared that his father wasn't in America and that it was all a ploy to send him away. That she just said that's why he was going, because she didn't want him.  
  
"Are you crying?" Damien growled, frustrated. Pip didn't say anything. Maybe he was crying, he wasn't paying attention. "Stop it."   
  
Pip wasn't sure if he was crying, but if he was, he didn't stop. He knelt in the same state he had been in before as Damien circled around him. A shark whittling into a school of fish. He didn't know when the shark would bite, but he hoped it was soon.  
  
Damien must have circled him twenty times before he heard other footsteps in the alley. Pip shivered in the cold, the numbness being edged out by terror. This was it. This had to be it. Damien was outsourcing his dirty work to Kenny. Maybe it was because he had a soft spot of Pip, like he loved him secretly, deep down.   
  
No one would want to kill someone they loved.   
  
"Put the blindfold on him," Damien snapped. He crouched back down, grabbing Pip's chin and forcing eye contact. "You don't know us. We don't know you."   
  
Pip nodded, trying to look away. Damien gripped his chin harder, furrowing his eyebrows at him.   
  
"We don't know you. You don't know us," he repeated. "Who ever you go to, you don't know us. You don't know me."   
  
"I don't know you?"   
  
"You don't know me," Damien enunciated the words as he let go of Pip's face. "Don't come looking for me; don't talk to anyone about this."   
  
"You're letting me go?" Pip said, mouth going dry. He felt elated for a split second. He wasn't about to be executed, he was just being returned to wherever he came from. Once the realization that he was once again homeless sunk in, and the nagging idea that there might be someone worse than Damien, he vomited onto the sidewalk.   
  
Thomas had spent alone time with Kenny for their sandwiches. It felt wrong to waste them, like he was spitting in the face of Thomas' hard work.   
  
"Where do I take him?" Kenny asked as a strip of fabric was wrapped around his face. Pip yelped, then dug his nails into his palms to quell the sound. "Dealers choice?" He snickered.  
  
"Kenny, I have a business to run. Just do something with him. Anything. And don't get caught." Pip listened as a Damien walked away and Kenny laughed.   
  
"It's not often that someone's so bad we let them go." Kenny laughed, yanking Pip by the armpit until he was standing. "And it's not often I get to drive the company car."   
  
"Where are we going?" Pip asked as he was lead out of the alley. He couldn't see, and while he hoped that Kenny wouldn't let him trip over anything, he doubted he was paying attention. "Are you going to kill me?"   
  
"Do you want me to kill you?" Kenny laughed. "Was your time with us that bad?"   
  
Pip didn't say anything, but he wanted to scream yes. He wanted to free himself from Kenny and run. He couldn't see, but he figured once he was running he could rip the blindfold off. He'd watched when women would break their heels on the concrete while running, and maybe if he did that, he could outrun Kenny.   
  
But instead of running, he just followed where he was dragged. He banged his head on roof of the car as Kenny shoved him into his seat. The door slammed behind him and the car started. The radio was so loud that Pip couldn't tell if Kenny was trying to talk to him, or not.   
  
"Where are we going?" Pip shouted as the car lurched. Pip fell forward, hitting what felt like the back of a seat. The leather was cold against his face, and it skewed his blindfold just enough to see the tiniest sliver of the world from the corner of his eye.   
  
He watched the lights of the city whirl past, though he couldn't get a good enough look to identify any landmarks. They twisted and turned through the city, in a way that seemed nonsensical. He decided that after two commercial breaks, Kenny was purposefully twisting around, so that he'd have no clue what was happening.   
  
Pip didn't tell him that he had no real understanding of Denver, that he spent his days going from home to school to home, with the occasional stop for work. He just sat as Kenny drove. It was nice to be in a car with heat.  
  
He was almost regretful when the car stopped. He had grown used to the sound of the radio and the whirl of the engine.   
  
"Take your blindfold off," Kenny said. Pip obliged as he heard the door open. The rush of cold air made him shiver and the hand on his shoulder made him squeak out in fear.   
  
It was just Kenny. Kenny grabbed at him, hoisting him up by his armpits, like Pip was unable to walk. Maybe he was, he thought as he looked down at the ground. It was dirt, and when he was stood upright, the heels in his shoes sunk into the earth. When he tried to walk forward, he tripped, landing on his knees.  
  
"Take your shoes off, it'll work better," Kenny snickered, pulling Pip's feet out of the ground. He didn't wait for Pip to take the shoes off, he did that himself. "Those clothes are Thomas's right?"   
  
Pip nodded, without thinking. He didn't expect to have the top taken from his body. Kenny looped his fingers underneath his shorts, and Pip shouted. He screamed as loud as he could for as long as he could.  
  
"Just shut the fuck up," Kenny grumbled. Pip just kept screaming. He didn't know if he was going to be murdered in this field, but he didn't want to die naked. "Shh!"   
  
"What the fuck, man?" A voice called from far away. "What the fuck?"  
  
Pip screamed for help. He screamed as loud as he could until Kenny back away, got into the car, and left. Once the car was gone, Pip kept screaming.   
  
"Who the fuck is screaming at one in the goddamn morning. This is Hell. We live in Hell," another voice, a man said. Pip couldn't see anyone, so he kept yelling. He rose to his feet, the dirt cold against his toes, and walked toward the direction of the talking, shouting.   
  
He walked toward the sound, still screaming, mostly for his own benefit. It felt good to hear his own voice, and in case the next people he stumbled into were evil. If the first people were bad, then maybe the second group that heard him screaming would help him.    
  
When he finally made it to where he heard people, there were tents.   
  
Kenny dropped him off where he found him.  
  
"Help?" He asked, walking toward the center of the encampment. There was a blonde man outside, an Alpha, standing next to a shorter brunette. They looked at him and sighed.   
  
"Why are you yelling?" The blonde asked. Pip recognized him as the Alpha who'd dropped him and shrieked. "Oh, fuck, it's you. I thought you ran away."  
  
"Ran away?" Pip asked, wrapping his arms around himself. It was cold, not freezing, but he'd have preferred to have a shirt on. "I don't remember your name," he mumbled, looking between the two of them.   
  
"Because you don't like us," The man said, looking him up and down.  
  
"He's Tweek and I'm Craig," Craig said, snuffing out a cigarette on the ground. "What the hell happened?"   
  
Pip wanted to tell them, to go on and on about how he'd apparently had two heats and he had sex with strangers, but when he opened his mouth, he remembered that he didn't know Damien. He wasn't supposed to talk about it. He assumed that if he kept the secret, that Kenny wouldn't come back and recapture him.   
  
He didn't want that.   
  
"Well, did you have a good heat?" Craig laughed, though it was shallow. Pip frowned as Craig gestured to the tent with a tilt of his head. "Go lay down, I guess. I think Tweek has an extra shirt."   
  
"We used your money," Tweek said as Pip walked across the clearing. He winced when the ground changed from dirt to gravel. He didn't know where his shoes were, and he didn't know when he'd get new ones. "Craig said you were gone and that you wouldn't need money anymore. I kept your wallet though, I like it."   
  
"Oh, that's," Pip scanned around for the proper word. He wanted to say fine, but knowing he had no money after that endeavor didn't feel fine. It wasn't okay, either. He didn't know what it was, so he didn't say anything.   
  
"Sorry," Craig sighed. "I got a job, so I can pay you back, someday," he said, looking a bit more upbeat. "What happened to your shoes?" He asked, walking toward Pip.   
  
"Lost them," Pip said after a few seconds. He did indeed lose them, and he was fairly certain he'd never get them back.  
  
"I want to go to bed," Tweek huffed. "I'm tired and you wake up too early for work. I want to sleep."   
  
"You go right back to sleep after I leave, and I know it," Craig rolled his eyes. "Go get Pip a shirt."   
  
"He doesn't have any shirts," Tweek said. Pip frowned, trying to adjust himself in a way that hid how he was outside at night in only hot pants. "He looks like a hooker."   
  
"I'm aware," Craig droned. "Get him a shirt, so he doesn't."   
  
"He doesn't have any!" Tweek shouted. He threw his hands in the air, pulling at his hair as Craig heaved his shoulders. "I have been trying to tell you, he doesn't have any!"   
  
"Shh, shh," Craig whispered, walking back toward Tweek while casting an eye on Pip. Pip didn't understand how he had done anything, but after the last few weeks, he decided that Alpha's didn't make any sense. He couldn't follow why he'd be mad at him. "Just grab one of your shirts, Tweek. You have extras, right?"   
  
"But they're mine!" Pip gnawed on his lip as Tweek complained like a child. He was so clearly a grown man, but he was throwing a fit over a shirt. Something easily replaced. Thomas wasn't very old and he didn't seem to mind giving away his clothing.   
  
"Then he can have one of mine," Craig grumbled. "Fuck, it's just not that hard."   
  
"I like my clothes!" Tweek yelled as Craig ducked into the tent. Pip wasn't sure if he was supposed to follow him in, or if he was supposed to wait outside. "I have four shirts and they're all mine!"  
  
"I'm not using yours. Shit, you need to chill the fuck out before you wake Cartman up," Craig said from inside the tent. After a few moments of waiting with Tweek glaring, Pip decided that the best thing he could do was crawl inside.   
  
And when he did, the smell of Alpha made him vomit. Craig grimaced, handing him a towel from a pile of laundry. It smelled like sweat and sex, but it was better than being covered in vomit. Or that's what Pip told himself as he wiped his chest.  
  
"Well, now that that's over, how are you?" Craig chuckled, tossing a t-shirt at Pip. Pip got dressed silently, slipping the shirt over his head. "We can talk about it later," he said with a shrug as Pip nodded. He did not plan on talking about it later, but if he put later off enough, then it'd never come.   
  
"Is he staying with us?" Tweek asked as he trailed into the tent. "I like that shirt on you. Don't give it to him. It's your shirt!"  
  
"I'll get it back and I can wash it. It's not a big deal. It's just a shirt. I probably got it from the Salvation Army or some bullshit," Craig shook his head, then sat on the pile of blankets on the floor. "And yeah, for right now, he's staying with us. We can find him a shelter or whatever in the morning."   
  
"I don't want him to stay here," Tweek pouted. "I don't like having to sleep by him. He left, so he shouldn't get to come back."   
  
"Good citizens," Craig grumbled. "And anyways, let's just go to bed, okay? I have to work and I don't want to be on someone's roof half asleep."   
  
"I don't want to be a good citizen," Tweek huffed as Pip sank to the floor. The shorts dug into his waist, but he knew better than to undress in front of two Alphas. "I want him gone. He doesn't get to come back."   
  
"Let's just go to sleep, please. We can talk about this in the morning," Craig said. Pip could hear him the rustling of blankets and out of the corner of his eye he could see the last standing figure finally sit.   
  
"Why was he naked?" Tweek asked. It wasn't a whisper, and it didn't sound like he was even trying to be quiet.   
  
"Because."   
  
"He stinks. He smells like at least two other Alphas."   
  
"I'm aware," Craig said. Pip got as comfortable as he could near the edge of the tent. The shirt smelled like Craig, which made him queasy, but it was better than being nude. It was cold, but not too cold to sleep, he told himself.   
  
"If you're aware, why is he staying here?" Tweek asked. "His other Alpha should be taking care of him. Not us."   
  
"Tweek, just go the fuck to sleep, goddamn," Craig groaned.   
  
"He smells like sex. I know you can smell it. I'm not crazy; I'm not a liar. He stinks and he's in your shirt."   
  
"I'll just go," Pip said. "I'm, uh, thanks for the shirt, I guess."  
  
"No, you won't. Tweek will shut the fuck up, and we will all go the fuck to sleep, okay? Cool."   
  
Pip flinched as Tweek laid down next to him. He didn't expect for Tweek to toss him a blanket, or willingly touch him. Pip would have preferred that Tweek didn't touch him, but he assumed he didn't have any say in the matter. When Tweek scented him, he gagged.   
  
"He obviously doesn't like us, man!" Tweek shouted, standing up and bumping his head against the roof of the tent. He scrambled around, hunched over, until a light flicked on. Pip blinked a few times to adjust to the lantern as Craig sat up, cursing.   
  
"Dude, just lay down. Don't talk to Pip, don't touch Pip, just lay down and sleep." Craig glared at Tweek, then at Pip. Pip wasn't sure what he had done, but he nodded.  
  
"Sorry," Pip croaked as the Tweek stumbled around the tent with the light.  
  
"Is your Alpha gonna come back and get you?" Tweek asked, shoving the lantern right up against Pip's face. When Tweek moved it banged against his nose. "Or did your Alpha abandon you?"  
  
"What?" Pip asked, feeling his mouth go dry.   
  
"Is your Alpha coming back? Are they going to be mad? Did you run away? Did they dump you off? Did you make them angry?" Tweek asked. Pip froze as the light blinded him.   
  
"Fuck," Craig sighed. Pip was starting to think that maybe that was all Craig had to say. "Tweek, stop." After a few moments of silence, Craig spoke again. "But, like, if there's gonna be an angry Alpha here at dawn because you ran away, it'd be cool to have a heads up."   
  
"I don't want to talk about this," Pip said through clenched teeth. He didn't want to think if they were going to change their minds and look for him. He didn't think they would. It didn't make sense to shove him in a car with Kenny and dump him in a field half naked, and then come back.   
  
"Why didn't his Alpha mark him?" Tweek asked, dangling the light in front of him. "If he had an Alpha, why didn't he mark him? Is he defective?"   
  
"Yeah, I'm defective," Pip said. He didn't mean to say it out loud, but it felt right. An Omega who was bad at sex had to be defective. If he wasn't, he'd be in the hotel sleeping next to Thomas.   
  
"Well, we're defective too, so you can stay here, I guess." Tweek relented, laying down and turning off the light. "But you need your own clothes, man! Taking someone else's clothes is like being a skin walker! You can't just assume someone's identity!"  
  
Pip ghosted a smile as Craig snorted. He wasn't tired, not after having slept all day with Thomas, but laying down and doing nothing was nice. He tried to clear his mind of everything as Tweek tossed and turned, occasionally kicking him. It was okay to just lay there, he decided.   
  
Once there was snoring, Tweek sat up and loomed over Pip.   
  
"What happened? Tell me the truth? Where's your Alpha?" He asked as Pip felt a knot of anxiety in his stomach. "Are you an impostor?"   
  
"What?" Pip whispered, looking as best he could in the dark at Craig's sleeping form. In the last few weeks he'd learned that all Alpha's were freaks. Not a single one he met seemed to be well adjusted, so he figured they just didn't exist.   
  
"Did you have sex with him? Did you eat him, man? Are you a cannibal? Oh shit!" Tweek's hands were in fists as he grabbed the hem of his shirt. Pip didn't understand how Craig was sleeping when Tweek was screaming at him.   
  
"I don't," Pip stammered. When Tweek leaned forward to scent him again, his nose pressed against Pip's neck, he froze.   
  
"You smell scared," Tweek said, softer. "Craig said I scared you. Before you left. That I made you leave. Did I?"   
  
"No," Pip shook his head, offering his neck again. Tweek looked so heartbroken, like he'd been outcast by Pip. "You didn't, I didn't, uh, I didn't leave."   
  
"You didn't leave?" Tweek asked, dropping his volume as he leaned closer to Pip. The smell was nauseating, but he tried not to heave. "You were gone, so you had to leave. Were you here the whole time?" Tweek asked.   
  
"No, I mean, I just," Pip exhaled through his mouth as Tweek grabbed his waist. He didn't like how close he was, but he also didn't think he'd like sleeping outside. And at least Tweek wasn't actively hurting him. "It's, I can't, I don't want to talk about it."  
  
"You smell good," Tweek murmured, pushing him down onto the blankets. He pulled him so he was close to Craig, their legs touching, and then laid on top of him. "You smell like home. The good parts," Tweek whispered. "Not the bad parts, just the good parts."  
  
"Thanks?" Pip asked as Tweek arranged himself so that they were all touching. One time, in biology, they had watched a video about animals, and he was certain this was how puppies slept. All piled on top of each other, with someone at the bottom.   
  
Pip didn't know why he was at the bottom of the pile, but he steeled himself for when he'd inevitably be moved. He tried to distract himself with counting as he waited for Tweek's hands to reach down and grab him. He'd get to twenty or twenty three and then stop, too panicked by the fear of Craig pawing at him to flip him onto his stomach.    
  
It didn't happen, though. Tweek just nosed at Pip's neck. He waited patiently for Tweek to touch him. He was an Alpha, so of course he wanted to have sex. When Tweek sleepily told him goodnight, with his body curled next to him, Pip flinched.   
  
He didn't realize that nothing was going to happen until the light broke through the tent. When the sun came up and the alarm went off, Craig sat up, looking over at Pip with a laugh. They made brief eye contact, where after two seconds, Pip broke away. It was too much to look directly at an Alpha, too intimidating. He didn't know if he had always felt that way, but it was an intense feeling. 

  
"What size are you, like a men's small?" Craig asked as he sloughed his shirt off. Pip didn't respond. "I'm gonna get you something from the store, so like, let me know."   
  
"Yeah?" Pip didn't mean for it to be a question. "I mean, yes," he corrected himself.   
  
"I mean, maybe don't fuck my boyfriend's brains out, while I'm gone," Craig snickered. Pip felt the blood drain from his face at the thought. He didn't want to have sex with Tweek. Was he expect to? Was that the trade? Have sex with them whenever they wanted?  
  
"I'm not good at it," Pip blurted out as Tweek shifted on top of him.  When Craig looked baffled as he slipped on his boots, Pip clarified. "Sex, I'm not good at it."  
  
"Yeah, I mean, it's okay," Craig said. "Or, I don't know, it's probably not." He frowned, surveying the room as Pip squeezed his eyes shut. It was not okay. None of this was okay. "We'll go eat when I get back, and if you need to piss, just have Tweek go with you. He likes to walk."   
  
"Okay," Pip whispered as Craig leaned over and shook Tweek by the shoulders. It took a few hard shoves to get a groggy response, but Pip was pretty sure he told Craig to fuck off.   
  
"I'm going to work," Craig said, ducking to leave the tent. "Don't leave him alone, okay Tweek?"   
  
"Fuck you," Tweek pulled the blankets over himself and Pip, and almost immediately resumed sleeping.   
  
"I'm serious," Craig called out. "Fucking, shit's dangerous, okay? We'll figure out what to do with him later."   
  
Pip gulped at the last part. He didn't want to think about what they were going to do with him. As the tent zipped shut, Pip tried to steady his nerves. It was okay, he was okay.   
  
As long as he didn't know who did what to him, he'd be fine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I just like Tweek and Craig, my bad :'D


	12. Chapter 12

“Do you know how to play Poker?” Tweek asked, eyes narrowed as he dug out a deck of cards from the pile of laundry in the corner. Pip shook his head.

When Tweek had actually woken up, at least a good four hours after Craig left for work, he’d demanded they take a walk so they could piss. Pip followed, afraid of being left alone. Tweek talked the whole time, about how sunny it was, how it was warm, how Craig would be back soon. He didn’t even stop talking as he whipped his dick out to pee. 

Pip bashfully went behind a tree, as Tweek spoke about what they would eat for dinner. Pip wondered how he’d go into a restaurant without shoes, or if they’d just leave him behind.

“Okay, well, I’m gonna play Solitaire, then,” Tweek said, pulling the cards out of their case and shuffling them. “I’m real good at it. Smart. I was always smart,” Pip nodded, laying down on the blankets.

“I know you don’t believe me. No one believes me, but I was smart,” Tweek whistled through his teeth, dealing the cards in rows. “I am smart, I guess. Craig believes me, I think.” 

“I believe you,” Pip didn’t know if he honestly believed him, but he was sure that saying he thought Tweek was an idiot would get him in trouble.

“Can we DP you?” Tweek asked, flipping cards over. Pip nodded, not understanding what was being asked. Whatever Tweek wanted, and whatever would keep him safe, that was fine. “Oh sweet, man” Tweek chuckled. “I’ve always wanted to. Craig and I won’t hurt you. Omegas are flexible. Alpha knots don’t hurt them like they hurt us. I kinda like it though.” 

Pip’s stomach churned as he pulled his shorts off, rolling onto his stomach. So this was the trade. He was going to have sex for a place to sleep. He gulped, tucking his knees under his hips. 

“Are you presenting?” Tweek chuckled. “You that eager?” Pip didn’t respond as Tweek picked him up, splaying him over his lap. “I guess I can finger you while we wait, if you want. I’m good with my hands.” 

Pip held his breath as he felt a hand touch his ass. He looked toward the cards as Tweek used one hand to play his game, and another started to lightly touch him. 

“Don’t be scared,” Tweek’s voice was heady as his fingers grazed Pip’s asshole. He took his time lightly touching as the cards were rearranged into columns. Pip bit his lip when a finger entered him, toes curled as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

“You’re too quiet,” Tweek complained, pulling his finger out. “Don’t you want to make noise?” Pip shook his head as Tweek ran a hand through his hair. “It’ll feel really good. Noises make it feel better,” Tweek said, inserting his finger.

“I don’t know what noises to make,” Pip said, jaw clenched. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” Tweek chuckled, running a hand underneath Pip’s shirt. “I just gotta work harder. I’m a hard worker, honest.” He pulled Pip up, resting him against his chest as he pulled the shirt off. Pip’s nose rested right against Tweek’s neck, bumping into the mark Craig had left.

When Tweek added another finger, Pip gasped. 

“That’s what I’m talking about,” he giggled. “Craig and I are gonna have so much fun with you.” Tweek rearranged Pip’s legs so that they straddled his waist. He struggled with the button to his jeans as Pip sat as still as possible. “Fuck yourself with my fingers.” 

“What?” Pip asked, looking down at Tweek’s newly freed cock.

Instead of giving verbal instructions, Tweek pressed Pip on the shoulder, forcing him down further onto his hand. Tweek moaned, throwing his head back as Pip rose and fell again. In short order, he removed his fingers, sticking them in Pip’s mouth. 

“Suck,” he commanded, grabbing him with both hands. Pip, disgusted, did as he was told. He gagged a bit, nose crinkled, as Tweek arranged him over his dick. He grunted, pushing himself all the way into Pip. 

“Fuck,” Tweek half laughed, thrusting his hips a bit. “That good?” Pip nodded, hoping to make Tweek happy. “I bet Craig’s almost home,” Tweek sighed, holding Pip down on his dick. “I want to be on the bottom.” 

Pip nodded as Tweek rearranged them so that Pip sat upright on Tweek’s hips as Tweek laid flat on his back. While they waited, Tweek bucked his hips shallowly, playing with Pip’s nipples. 

Once they heard a zipper, Tweek shouted for Craig, warning him not to unzip the tent all the way. Pip sighed as Tweek took his dick in his hand, pumping slowly.

“What the fuck?” Craig asked, tone flat.

“Get the lube!” Tweek smiled, arching his back to look at Pip. “You get to be on top.” 

“Pip is on top,” Craig said, sounding annoyed as he dug around in the laundry. Pip looked at him, eyes glassy, as he pulled back a little bottle. “He doesn’t like riding your dick.” 

“Pip’s gonna be in the middle,” Tweek said giddily as he put both of his hands on Pip’s shoulders to pull him forward. “It’s not cheating if we do it together. It’s a threesome if it’s both of us. I just did the prep work already. I haven’t even knotted him yet, honest. I wouldn’t lie, Craig.” 

“Does Pip want to have a threesome?” Craig looked skeptical as he pulled his shirt over his head. Pip didn’t react as he pulled of his jeans and tossed his boxers to the side. “Why am I the top?” 

“Fuck, Craig, if you want to be the bottom, then fine,” Tweek pouted, pulling Pip off of his dick. Pip was expressionless as they rearranged. 

“Topping is a lot of work,” Craig shrugged as he laid on the floor. “Is he really okay with this?” 

“Yeah, I asked if he wanted to have a threesome and he said yes,” Tweek grumbled. “Can we just fuck him, please?” 

Pip inhaled sharply as he was lowered onto Craig’s dick. Craig pulled him forward, rubbing his hands against his back while making eye contact. Pip didn’t hold it. 

“You sure this is okay?” Craig asked, again. “You don’t seem very excited.” 

“I’m excited,” Pip said softly. He wasn’t. He was numb. “Just fuck me.”

“See, he’s excited. We’re all excited,” Tweek rambled as Pip felt bare skin against his back. He sucked in another breathe and waited for Craig to start moving. 

Instead, another dick entered him. 

“Oh my God,” Pip hissed, folding over onto Craig. “Oh God.” 

“See, he likes it,” Tweek giggled. “I like it.” He thrusted forward, slowly, then quickly, as Craig bucked up shallowly. It was uncomfortable. “Fuck, he’s so tight.” 

“Uh-huh,” Craig agreed, eyes shut. Pip grimaced, willing the whole situation to be over. He counted to a hundred as they pounded in and out of him, trying to stay grounded in whatever shitty situation he’d landed himself in.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum,” Tweek groaned, pounding into Pip feverishly. Pip yipped as he felt the beginnings of a knot. “You have to too, Craig,” 

“Mmm,” Craig said softly. “Gonna knot him.” 

“Bet you wish you were getting two knots, whore,” Tweek teased, voice unusually high. Pip couldn’t think of who would want to have a knot, let alone two knots. 

He started to cry as soon as the first knot popped, wailing as loud as he could. He wasn’t sure who came first, but very quickly, the second created a burning sensation in his behind. 

“Is that the sound he makes when he comes?” Tweek asked, looking down at Craig.

“I don’t think he came yet,” Craig said, propping himself up on his elbows. “He’s soft, though.”

Pip tried to free himself, but that only made it hurt more. Any sort of movement, any jostling, sent new shock waves of pain through his body. He felt fat tears run down his cheeks as he tried to stay still. 

“Fuck, we hurt him,” Craig said, grabbing Pip by the waist. “He’s crying.” Craig’s repositioning tugged the knots against his rim, causing him to shout out. “Shit, we need to not move.” 

“Don’t move?” Tweek asked, leaning forward in an effort to look at Pip. 

Pip pulled his hands over his face so he could cry in earnest. 

“Shit,” Craig hissed as let go of Pip’s waist. “We shouldn’t have done that.” 

“He said we could,” Tweek argued. “Shouldn’t say yes to things you don’t want to do.” 

“Well, we hurt him,” Craig said. “I don’t think he ever even got hard.” 

“Omegas are hard to please sometimes,” Tweek said, like it was inconsequential. Like Pip crying sandwiched between them wasn’t important. “Do you think he likes to be hurt?” 

Tweek didn’t wait for an answer, he just gave Pip’s ass a sharp slap. Pip howled as he tried to jump off of the knots. 

“Dude, stop it,” Craig growled. “You’re gonna hurt him worse.” 

“Yeah, but some people like to be hurt. It’s like their thing. If being hurt is his thing, then I bet he is really liking this.” Tweek slapped again, causing Pip to bite his lip. He could taste blood as Tweek snickered.

“It doesn’t seem like his thing,” Craig shot off. “If it was his thing, then he’d be cumming on my stomach.” 

Pip couldn’t imagine this being anyone’s thing. He didn’t want to think about what kind of person did this for fun. 

“Well, how was work?” Tweek asked, running his hands through Pip’s hair. Pip wailed, panting through his mouth. 

“Really?” Craig asked over Pip’s crying. “You are gonna ask that as he cries?” 

“It’s not like we can move, so yeah, I thought I’d ask about my boyfriend’s day,” Tweek sounded like a petulant child. “Are we gonna get a rotisserie chicken for dinner? Those are my favorite.” 

“Fuck if I know,” Craig grumbled. “Pip, you wanna talk about it?” 

He shouted a garbled go away through his tears.

“We should get one,” Tweek repeated. “I want the legs. Both of them.” 

“Fine,” Craig relented. “We can get a chicken. After we take care of Pip.” 

“You’re ruining the fun time,” Tweek said, pushing at Pip’s back. “Is this why your Alpha didn’t want you? Cause you’re a fun sucker?” 

“Christ, Tweek,” Craig tried to pull Pip’s hands away from his face. Pip resisted, but then relented after the struggled made him move. He sobbed, closing his eyes so he didn’t have to look at Craig.

“Someone who does this every time after they fuck, they aren’t fun to have sex with,” Tweek complained. “Can we get soda, too?” 

“How about we just don’t make any noise until our knots go down, okay?” Tweek made a noncommittal noise as Pip cried. 

“He’s not listening to you,” Tweek said after a few seconds. “He’s making lots of noise.” 

“Just you and me. Just the two of us, not talk.” 

“That’s not fair,” Tweek complained. “If we have to be quiet, so does he.” 

“Just be quiet,” Craig growled. Pip did his best to stop crying, though it came out as hiccupy mewls. He supposed that was better than loud wails.

“I don’t want to,” Tweek pouted, yanking his hips back. Pip shouted as he fell forward, right onto Craig. His ass ached as two still half firm knots slipped out. “If we have to be quiet, so does he.” 

Pip sat up, wincing, and scrambled for his shirt. When he remembered that it wasn’t his shirt, but Craig’s, he bolted out of the tent, running into the door as he fought the zipper. 

“What are you doing?” Tweek asked. “You’re so silly. First you told me you wanted to fuck us, and now you’re trying to run out of the tent naked? If Kenny and Butters find you you’re going to have to do it again. I think he likes it, Craig. Some people aren’t into cumming. Maybe he just likes edging.” 

Pip turned around, pupils blown as Tweek chuckled. Was this his best option? Pip gulped.

“Tweek,” Craig said, as sweetly as he could muster, “if I give you twenty dollars can you go walk to the store and get dinner?” 

“Can I get soda?” Tweek asked, perking up as he slid his shirt on. “And cookies?” 

“Anything you want,” Craig said, tossing him his jeans. Pip watched from the door, blood snaking down his chin as his tears began to dry up. “Pip, come sit.” 

“Hurts,” Pip whispered, looking at the spot next to Craig. Craig held up a twenty dollar bill which Tweek snatched almost instantly.

“Then come lay down. You can lay down, I guess,” Craig waved him over as Tweek pushed him out of the way. Pip stumbled toward Craig, before he eased himself onto the floor. 

“We shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.” Pip blinked, resting his head in his arms as he laid flat on his belly. “Did you tell Tweek you wanted to? Is he lying to me?” 

“I said yes,” Pip said softly, trying to get comfortable. 

“He asked and you said yes?” Craig leaned over, trying to get a good look at Pip’s face. He looked up for a few moments, eyes wide, and nodded. “Did you like it? No, that was a stupid question.” 

“I like,” Pip paused, putting his head back in his hands, “having a place to sleep.” 

“They’re not related,” Craig sat up, placing a hand on Pip’s back. “You don’t have to fuck me and Tweek to sleep here for a night.” 

“Oh,” Pip said softly. “What about tomorrow night?” He asked, body tense. 

“I mean, you weren’t ever going to stay with us forever. We’re strangers, why would you even want to?” Craig laughed as Pip exhaled through his teeth. “You can do better than a tent with a felon and a lunatic.” 

Pip didn’t think he could. After the way the last few weeks had unfolded, he was certain that the experience with Tweek and Craig was as good as experiences got. At least for him. 

“Didn’t you have a boyfriend we were supposed to find? I’m off next Tuesday, I can help you look.” 

“No,” Pip said slowly. He didn’t know Damien. He certainly couldn’t show up on Damien’s doorstep.

“Look, if this guy likes you, he’s not gonna care that you’ve had sex with other Alphas,” Craig smiled, grabbing his jeans. “I can look him up, if you want. Got a phone. You can even call him.” 

Pip shook his head as the phone was placed in his hands. It was on the internet browser, the search bar open. Against his better judgement he Googled his name. His breath hitched in his throat as he saw the first listing was for PornHub. 

He clicked it, handing the phone back to Craig. 

“Is this your boyfriend?” Craig looked confused as the video started. “I don’t care if your boyfriends a pornstar. Shit’s complicated, and if you can make good money doing porn, more power to you. And it’s not like you really have any-” 

Craig stopped as a tinny voice keened through the speakers. Pip buried his head back in his arms, ashamed of himself. That video was on the internet, even though he’d done what Damien asked. 

“I’m not going to get another boyfriend,” Pip said, voice as measured as he could manage.

“Kenny took you, didn’t he?” Craig asked, face growing red. “I’ll kill him. I’ll string him up by his fucking feet. My kid sisters an Omega and if someone ever did this to her, I’d kill them.” 

“I don’t know,” Pip shrugged. He didn’t really know who took him. But he did know that Kenny had been involved. Kenny had been at the hotel. 

“I’m turning this shit off,” Craig grimaced, tossing his phone aside. “I’m sorry about what me and Tweek did. It was wrong.” 

“I said you could,” Pip said, face down in the blanket. 

“Yeah, but like coercion. You didn’t want to be fucked by two Alphas. It was just exciting. Tweek had always talked about wanting to, but with me in the middle,” Craig laughed shallowly. “It’s hard to find another Alpha who wants fuck Alphas.” 

“It’s better than strangers,” Pip said solemnly. 

“I mean, maybe,” Craig shrugged as Pip looked up. “You want to make like, a nest, or something?” 

“What?” Pip asked, snorting. “A nest?” 

“Yeah. I read in a book in school that Omega’s like nests. They make them feel good or safe, or whatever.” Craig stood up, grabbing the pile of laundry and placing it by Pip’s head. “I guess that only works if our scents don’t make you sick.” 

“They don’t.” Pip adjusted himself so he was upright, wincing as he sank down onto the ground again. “I mean, only a little.” He sorted through the clothes, tucking most of them around himself. His old clothes, the ones he’s started his heat in, and the shorts he’d gotten from Thomas, didn’t make the grade. Everything else was in a circle around him. “I just don’t feel good.” 

“I get it,” Craig nodded. “I’ll save you dinner, if you want to nap. I bet it’s gonna be rotisserie chicken and like four boxes of cookies. Tweek can’t balance a meal to save his life.” 

“I like cookies,” Pip nodded to himself as he nestled into the clothing. Craig draped a blanket on top of him, tucking his hair behind his ears.

“Yeah, cookies are good.” 

Craig continued running his hand through Pip’s hair as he drifted off into an uneasy sleep. 

He kept his eyes closed when the tent unzipping woke him. He was exhausted, so he had originally hoped to go back to bed. Craig shifted, pulling his hand away as Tweek stomped into the tent. He peaked to see Tweek holding a few groceries bags, a frown on his face.

“We hurt him,” Tweek said, sitting down on the ground with a thud. “I didn’t mean to.” 

“I know,” Craig said.

“I’m sorry I hurt him,” Tweek explained as Pip shifted in his makeshift nest. “I thought it’d be fun, but he didn’t have fun.” 

“No, he didn’t.”

“I got him a card,” Tweek said, fishing around the bags. Pip watched with his eyes mostly shut. “You said anything I wanted, so I got him a sympathy card and I wrote, ‘sorry we tore open your butthole.’” 

“That’s a nice thought,” Pip could hear the hint of a smile in Craig’s voice. Like he was a parent trying to discipline a child that was struggling with the humor of the situation. 

“I got him some ointment too, since like, he was bleeding,” Tweek rubbed the back of his neck. “And I got dinner. Chicken, bread, apples, Dr. Pepper, Sprite, and a box of store brand Oreos. I couldn’t get real Oreos and the ointment, so I made a sacrifice.” 

“That’s a surprisingly well balanced dinner,” Craig snorted. “And good call on the ointment.” 

“I, uh,” Tweek looked down, “I got an, uh, application, too.” He pulled it out of the bag, along with a pen. “I figured, maybe, I dunno. They might hire me. The guy who bagged my groceries was retarded, so you know.” 

“Tweek, you can’t call people that,” Craig exhaled through his nose. “It’s mean.” 

“He was though. Like he was special, so like me being nuts, probably not a deal breaker. I hope not,” Pip sat up as Tweek worked his lip through his teeth. “I hope you feel better,” Tweek spat the words out, like he was afraid he’d forget to say them.

“I’m fine,” Pip smiled. He was certainly not fine, and every muscle in his backside ached, but hearing Tweek talk about him made him feel a bit better.

“You know as soon as I pay off my probation, we’re moving, right?” Craig asked. “You’ve got a couple months before we go to Grand Junction.” 

“Yeah, but like, extra money would be cool, with an extra person,” Tweek smiled at Pip. “And he’s too weird to work. People don’t want to be checked out by glass eyed Omegas who show up naked.” 

“Grand Junction?” Pip asked, feeling his stomach summersault. He didn’t know what was in Grand Junction, but he certainly didn’t want to go into all the ways that Tweek, who had just purchased him a butthole sympathy card, thought he was weird.

“Craig’s friend’s dad owns a company that paves roads and they have a big job west of Grand Junction,” Tweek beamed. “Craig’s gonna get a job once he’s off parole and can leave. His friend’s dad even is gonna pay for a hotel room, since no one lives out there.” 

“It’s not for a little while,” Craig said as panic rose across Pip’s face. “We will figure something out. It’s not like I’m just gonna hand you back to Kenny.” 

“Fuck Kenny,” Tweek yelled, digging through the bags for a long skinny loaf of french bread. “He asked me for food, like we don’t have enough people to feed. Kenny has money, he doesn’t need our food. And when I said no, he’d said he’d just take it. What a dick.” 

Tweek tore off a hunk of bread, and passed it to Pip. Carefully, Pip began hollowing it out, leaving the outside, and only eating the soft bread in the middle. Tweek laughed at him as Pip took slow bites. 

“I decided you can have one leg,” Tweek said, puffing out his chest like he’d made a royal announcement. “Just one, because I want the other one.” 

The thought of eating any chicken made his stomach turn. He shook his head, tearing off another piece of bread. 

“Are you sick?” Craig asked. “There’s a clinic you can go to.” 

“Nu-uh,” Pip said, mouth full of bread. “Just don’t want chicken.” 

Craig nodded, looking at Pip skeptically. He looked at Tweek, who had already ripped off a chicken leg. Craig started to take his own pieces, eating the chicken with his fingers. 

“I hear the hotel will have a kitchenette,” Craig said, looking wistful. “And a fridge. So we can make stuff, like macaroni and have milk. It’ll be cool.” 

“Can we still have chicken?” Tweek asked, skin hanging out of the side of his mouth. 

“Yeah, for sure, but we can have macaroni with it.” 

“Macaroni sounds nice,” Pip agreed. 

“We can have macaroni tomorrow,” Tweek said. “You can buy some from the deli, if you get there early. Do you want macaroni?” Pip nodded. “Then tomorrow.” 

“I guess, sure,” Craig agreed.

“I got you a card!” Tweek exclaimed, placing a chicken bone on his lap as he shoved his greasy hands a grocery bag. It said “To Pip” in almost illegible writing. 

Pip opened it carefully, looking up at Craig occasionally as he tried not to burst into laughter. The car was a deep purple, with light pink flowers dotting the cover. In gold script the words “Our Condolences,” sat on the cover. Pip tried not to smile as he opened the card, but as soon as he read, “sorry we tore open your butthole,” he couldn’t contain himself. 

“Thank you,” he said in a voice he hoped was convincing. “This is very nice. I accept your apology.” 

Tweek nodded, before lunging once more for the chicken.


	13. Chapter 13

Every morning Pip watched Craig scurry out of the tent, clean clothes in his arms, and shoes halfway slipped on his feet.   
  
He would have been an Alpha Pip found attractive. Dark hair, sinewy muscles, and piercing blue eyes. He did look a little bit like Damien if you squinted. Pip didn't squint.

Each morning as Craig waved goodbye, Pip wondered if he’d ever find another Alpha attractive again.  
  
As the tent zipped up, Pip snuggled back into the burrow of blankets, careful not to press against Tweek. He’d made that mistake a few times, and Tweek had rutted against him automatically, moaning Craig’s name in his ear as he tried to mount him.   
  
It had been lucky, or as lucky as Pip’s whole life could ever be, that his gut reaction was to start crying. Craig had sprung up, wordlessly pulling Tweek off of him. They had fucked, the scent heavy in the air as Pip shivered into the mesh wall of the tent. At least it wasn’t him.  
  
They didn't talk about the knotting incident, and they didn't talk about Pip's lack of appetite or poor grooming habits. It'd been a month and they just didn't discuss it. They bought Pip his loaf of bread, some water, and they eventually bought him some flip flops so he could go down the road to the gas station for the bathroom.   
  
He didn't ever go alone, though.   
  
He didn't want to go anywhere alone ever again.   
  
So instead of walking outside to pee, he held it and went back to sleep.  
  
"You awake, Pip?" Tweek stretched, hitting him directly in the face. Pip mumbled out a response.   
  
This was every morning. Every morning, about four hours after Craig left, Tweek would stretch his arms and hit Pip. Secretly, he thought it might be a purposeful thing.   
  
It wasn't a secret Tweek didn't like him. Tweek made a habit of making people he didn't like miserable. Pip was already miserable, so maybe Tweek wasn't trying too hard. All he had to do was hit him in the face every morning for the rest of his life, and he'd be good.   
  
"You hungry?" Tweek asked, yawning as he sat up. He rummaged around the tent, before going through the ever growing pile of dirty laundry and pulling out a half eaten chicken. They hadn't had chicken last night, they'd had burgers. Well, Tweek and Craig had burgers, while Pip had more bread. The bread didn't make him want to wretch like everything else did. 

As soon as Tweek lifted the plastic lid off of the bird, Pip did in fact vomit. He vomited all over the front of himself at the smell of rotting chicken. Tweek took a bite anyway, chewing loudly like it was the most delicious thing he'd ever eaten.   
  
"It's good? You want some?" Tweek asked, waving the plastic container around. "It's still good. They use preservatives, man."   
  
"No thank you," Pip choked out between gags. He jumped upright when thunder crashed. Unfortunately, so did Tweek, causing him, and the chicken to collide. Pip heaved as the bird landed in his lap while Tweek chuckled gleefully. He knew he was talking pleasure in this. He was hazing Pip on purpose.   
  
"Craig's gonna come home early," Tweek squealed, scooping the chicken carcass off of Pip's legs. He continued to eat it, disregarding the vomit, pulling off bits of meat and ripping bones out of their sockets. "He comes home when it rains. They don't fix roofs in the rain, even though, really, that's when you want your roof fixed." Tweek chuckled to himself.  
  
"Unzip the tent," Pip said, throat tight. Judging by the scowl on Tweek's face, it came out as more as a strangled order than a desperate request. "Please."   
  
"Why? You want to go live with Kenny? You don't like us?" When Pip didn't respond, Tweek started shouting. "What is it, man? You can talk, even dumb Omegas can talk."   
  
"It stinks," Pip whined, hiccuping back bile.  
  
"You think I stink now?" Tweek barked, getting too close to Pip's face. It was the chicken, some hanging from the straggly hair on his chin, pieces caught in his teeth as he screamed. "You're a dick, you know? We have been taking care of you, and now we stink?"   
  
"Chicken," Pip mumbled, heaving again. Pale liquid dribbled out of his mouth, snaking its way down his chin and into his neck.  
  
"No, you don't get anything if you think I'm so gross!" Tweek hollered. "Get out," Tweek said, softer. Pip was frozen in his place, when he watched Tweek unzip the tent.   
  
Good, Pip sighed, relieved. The soft patter of rain outside and the inflow of air tamped down the scent. He held his hands on his face, trying to filter the smell of his own vomit. It worked as well as he hoped it would.   
  
"Thank you," Pip's hands covered his mouth and nose as he struggled not to vomit again. He flinched at Tweek's glare. "Really, thank you," Pip repeated, hoping Tweek would soften.   
  
"Thought I stunk," Tweek huffed, hunched over as he walked toward Pip. He sweeped Pip into his arms. "Do I stink? Tell the truth, fuckface." Between Tweek's growling and stiff shoulders, Pip shivered. Angry Alpha body language wasn't a good. He curled inward on himself, arms wrapped around his knees as he hung in the air. "Go away."   
  
Pip looked up to try to see who Tweek was speaking to, but instead he was flung into the air. Rain sprinkled onto him as he landed near a tree, rolling into it. With a sharp crack, his ribs collided with the trunk. He mewled in response, eyes squinted as Tweek retreated back to his tent, throwing Pip the bird.   
  
At least it didn't stink.   
  
Well, it did stink a little.   
  
But that was just the vomit on his clothes, and the rain would wash that away, he was sure of it. It wasn't that cold, even with the wind. He must have been stress shivering. He'd be fine until he felt well enough to get up, he decided. If he didn't draw any attention to himself, no one would come looking for him. The tree was shielding him anyway.   
  
And he had been tossed behind the tent, he surveyed. He was hidden, so it wouldn't hurt to get a few more hours of sleep while he could. Maybe Tweek would change his mind. He did that a lot. Or Craig would change his mind for him.  
  
Craig had a habit of doing that.  
  
It was hard to sleep on the soggy mess of ground beneath him, but that was fine. After a few quite moments he decided it was best not to fall asleep, just in case Kenny came by. It wasn't the sudden pain in his ribs whenever he took a breath keeping him up, or the waves of nausea coupled with hunger. It was just a good safety measure.   
  
Pip could never be too safe.   
  
"What the fuck?" Pip perked up, despite the pain, when he heard Craig's voice calling out.   
  
"Craig?" He wheezed, barely loud enough to hear himself. It was hard to get any sort of volume when he was only barely inflating his lungs.  
  
"What the hell happened?"  
  
"He said I fucking stink, so I made him leave!" Tweek stomped out of the tent, appearing in Pip's vision before Craig. "He said I stink!"   
  
"The chicken..." Pip trailed off. It hurt too much to speak, but Tweek didn't stink, not really.   
  
"You're not getting any. I ate it all, fuck you, man."   
  
"Goddamn it. Is this another episode?" Craig asked, still out of Pip's eyesight.  "Who are you talking to? I'm not staying for another one of these. I'll go shack up with Bebe."  
  
"Bebe is a dumb whore, and so is Pip, so fuck them! Fuck 'em all, man." Tweek glared at Pip, making moves like a rapid animal, lunging against an imaginary chain. It always caught him, right before he'd tear into Pip.   
  
"Where is he at?" Craig asked as Pip stiffled a cough. The rain pattered down on his already wet clothes, soaking the socks Craig had lent him straight through. Maybe he could get another pair. He was hopeful that Craig would let him have a spare set, even if they were worn.   
  
It might be better if they were worn. Craig was nice. Most importantly, Craig was nice to him.   
  
"He's gone because he's not welcome here," Tweek spat, turning on his heel and vanishing from his vision. "He's a whore. I know what that tattoo is. If you want a whore to live with us it's because you don't like me. Why don't you like me? Why am I not enough, man?"   
  
"That's mean, dude," Craig said. "We're supposed to be good citizens."   
  
"I am tired of being a good citizen," Tweek huffed, as he waltzed back into the tent, his shadow beckoning Craig to follow him.   
  
Craig wasn't a good citizen, or at least a very observant one. The tent zipped up with Pip still outside.   
  
He let that fantasy of Craig's clothes wrapped around him play out while they argued in the tent. He could see their shadows through the fabric. Maybe Craig would let him sleep next to him. Or they could switch blankets. He'd take what he could get, no need to be picky.   
  
"Can I shirt?" Pip asked aloud, practicing the words. He giggled, flinching at the pain, at how he'd managed to even fuck that up. "Can I have Craig shirt?" That was closer, and close enough to correct. He mumbled to himself for a few moments, before resting his head back on the ground. It'd stop raining, it always did.   
  
XXXXXX  
  
Pip's eyes fluttered open as the rain continued to drizzle around him. The sun had gone down, and he shivered in his clothes. He could see the tent he had spent the last week in, and the outlines of Tweek and Craig, sitting across from each other. They were eating something, hopefully not the chicken. He couldn't smell it through the rain. Everything just smelled like rain.   
  
And a little bit like stomach bile.   
  
He tried to sit up, but quickly realized that moving his chest was immensely painful. He stared at the tent, watching them eat and joke and enjoy each others company. Did he look like that when he was in there? They seemed so happy, even with the mounds of clothes in the corners. He reached an arm out to hit it, but couldn't quite reach. He rolled forward, moaning in pain, then hit the tent again, as hard as he could. The fabric barely even indented.   
  
"What was that?" Craig's head swiveled. Pip hit it again.  
  
"Probably a fucking tree branch," Tweek waved his hand, putting his arms on Craig. They kissed for a few seconds, while Pip hit the tent as frequently as he could.   
  
"Dude, I think it's a person," Craig growled, pressing his face into the tent.   
  
"Pip," he squeaked out, hitting the tent one last time before rolling backwards.   
  
"Fuck," Craig jumped up, unzipped the tent in a fury, and rushed to where Pip laid on the ground, soaking wet. "Fuck," he repeated. "Hey kiddo, you okay?"   
  
"He was supposed to go!" Tweek said, complaining from the tent. "I threw him out so he has to leave." 

"Did you physically throw him out?" Craig asked, scooping Pip into his arms. He'd never been carried so much in his life, he was sure. Even with the ache in his chest, Pip nuzzled against him, letting the scent wash him over. He smelled like sweat and work, which was normal. In a moment of lucidity he wouldn't have scented Craig so fervently, but here he was, Craig's shirt bunched in his fists as he rubbed it over his face.   
  
"He's fucking scenting you, man!" Tweek shouted. "He wants you to be his Alpha." Pip tilted his head, showing his scent gland. "He wants you to fucking cheat on me, because he's a goddamn tramp. Leave him there and come eat dinner!"   
  
"I'm taking him to the hospital. You can sit here and wait for me, or you can go fuck off." Craig hoisted Pip higher on his body, walking toward the rest of the tents. Pip watched lazily as Craig kicked at Bebe's tent.  
  
"I'm trying to fucking sleep," Bebe groaned.  
  
"Don't give a shit," Craig replied, deadpan.   
  
"I don't give a shit about you!" Tweek shouted from behind them. "I'm throwing all your shit out of the tent, you dumb bitch! You can't just cheat on me! It's fucking wrong!"   
  
The tent unzipped, and Craig immediately ducked down, climbing in. Pip looked around, careful to limit his range of motion to avoid pain. He saw a few needles, some take out, condoms, and clothes, all surrounding a cot that was lifted off the ground.   
  
"Don't go to sleep," Craig warned Pip, setting him on the cot. Pip didn't nod but he kept his eyes open as Bebe opened her mouth, then promptly shut it.   
  
"What the hell?" Bebe asked, pulling at his feet. He tried not to giggle as she pulled the socks off, wadding them into a ball and tossing them at the wall.   
  
"Tweek," Craig said in one short syllable.  
  
"He's a fucking psychopath," Bebe muttered, tugging on his pants, also from Craig. They were way too big around the waist, but they were warm. Or at least they were warm when they were dry.  She looped his arms through his shirt and tried to yank it over his head. Pip howled out in pain as she jostled his ribs.   
  
"He's sick. He needs fucking medical attention," Craig said, brow furrowed.   
  
"Yeah, Pip sure does," Bebe repeated half laughing. "Gotta take the wet shirt off."   
  
"Craig shirt," Pip mumbled out as he was stripped.   
  
"Yeah kiddo, whatever you want, okay." Pip smiled as Craig spoke, ignoring the hand tracing up and down the spot on his ribs where he'd collided with the tree. "I gotta get some shit from my tent, can you watch him?"   
  
"Where's he gonna go?" Bebe asked with a snort. She shooed him out, as Craig pulled his t-shirt off and dropped it on Pip's chest.  
  
"You got an extra towel? Maybe a blanket?"  
  
"He's not my problem!" Bebe shouted as Craig walked out of the tent. "You wanted to play good Samaritan hero complex bullshit, and now you have to deal with it. First Tweek, now Pip. You've got a problem, honey. You can't save people; you just gotta let them float along their own way and hope they don't die."   
  
"Five minutes," Craig called out as Bebe stared at him. Pip pulled the shirt up against his face, breathing in the heady scent of sweat and rain, and- Pip sniffed again. And sex. Craig had sex with Tweek while he was sleeping behind the tent. His nose crinkled. He didn't want to smell Tweek. He was sure that every single piece of clothing in that tent had at least a few notes of Tweek.   
  
"You gonna wear the shirt or make love to it?" Bebe asked. She seemed annoyed, but she always seemed annoyed. "I'd give you some, but it's expensive, and I think Craig or someone's taking you to an ER. They'll give you Oxy, looking at you. You don't need my shit, too."   
  
Pip kept the shirt close to his face as she spoke. Mostly Craig and a some Tweek was better than no scent, he decided. Did he like Craig, or did he just like not being thrown into trees? He hadn't really know a lot of Alphas up close, only a handful, and while he previously would have thought that Damien was the best, he was now more than certain that Craig was as good as it would ever get.   
  
"You know, I don't say shit like this often, but you should get a pimp," Bebe threw a blanket, he assumed, onto his legs. It was soft, though a little stiff in certain spots. It was certainly warmer than being uncovered and wet. "A pimp can protect you from shit like this. And," Bebe looked him up and down once more, "and you're pretty cute, as far as male Omegas go. I bet you've got a big market."   
  
"I don't want to," Pip mumbled. He didn't want to get a pimp. He was fairly certain that he'd already had one pimp, and he really didn't enjoy that experience.   
  
"You think Craig's gonna let you freeload off of him forever? I get that you don't want to, but like, you don't really have a choice. If you wait for Craig to get pissed off and kick you out, then you're gonna be on the streets alone, and you're too dumb for that shit. And Tweek might kill you before then." Bebe licked her lips as she spoke, dropping a towel onto his chest. "And before you say, 'Bebe, I don't want to be a whore," it's a little bit too late for that, sweet pea. If you go back to Kenny's guy, you'd at least be sleeping inside."   
  
"He kicked me out," Pip gritted his teeth.   
  
"They do that to make you desperate. So you'll be a good listener. Some of the girls I work with have had it happen to them. They think it's bullshit, because it is. It's a load of crap, but they want to feel manly, so you might as well let them," Bebe snickered as Craig came back into her tent, his phone in his hand. "I'm just saying, food for thought."   
  
"What did you tell him?" Craig asked, eyebrows raised. "I'm gonna call in a favor from my mom, and we'll see if I'm too much of a huge, terrible disappointment to help."   
  
"You're not," Pip smiled.   
  
"Not to your mom," Bebe added.   
  
"Fuck off," Craig waved his hand as he dropped a bundle of clothes onto Pip's legs. "Get him dressed while I wait for her to pick up."   
  
"Oh sure, since you're totally paying me for this adventure," Bebe complained. But she put she slipped the jeans onto Pip's legs, as he raised his backside off the cot. Once they were buttoned and fastened, it was clear they were much too big. She did the same with the shirt, though she was a bit more careful when she slipped his arms through.   
  
"Hey, Mom. It's Craig. Yeah, I sort of have an emergency. I'm fine, but my friend, he uh, he got in a, uh fight. And he lost," Craig looked him over once more. "Like really lost. I know you're mad at me. I know, but like, my friend needs to go to the hospital and I don't have a car. No, it's not Tweek. No, I didn't dump Tweek. Look, I like Tweek and that's a whole other conversation. Yes, Mom, I know I called you. I know you don't approve of my choices. Yes, my lifestyle choices. I know that I did this to myself, oh, trust me Mom, I know."  
  
Craig inhaled and exhaled a few times.   
  
"Look, my friend isn't a bad person. I know I said that about Tweek. Fuck, I know, Mom and he's not a bad person, he's just mentally fucked up. But my friend, his name is Pip and he's and he's- let me finish. He's not my fucking boyfriend.  He's an Omega. I'm not dating a fucking Omega."   
  
Craig rolled his eyes at Bebe, holding the phone away from his ear.   
  
"Look, I know. I know Mom. My friend is hurt and I don't have a car. Can I please get a ride to the hospital? Yes? Oh thank God. We're at the usual spot. I know you hate it. You're not gonna get mugged if you park at the street. Twenty minutes? Thank you, Mom. Thanks." Craig hung the phone up as Pip worked his lip with his teeth.   
  
He was the reason Craig was having to eat crow with his mom. Craig could have saved that emergency for himself, or Tweek, who he had just said was still his boyfriend, even though he'd thrown Pip into a tree. Bebe wrapped him in another blanket, eyes narrowed at him. She was probably right. He ought to just go back to Damien and grovel until he was allowed back. At least he'd be warm and dry. There was value in that.   
  
He'd have clothes in his size, too.   
  
"If you have a concussion, you can't go to sleep. We learned that in basketball," Craig said aloud. He wasn't addressing either of them. "I mean you can, but you shouldn't."   
  
"I didn't hit my head," Pip wheezed, "Thanks for the blanket."   
  
"And the clothes, and the tent, and the food, and a place to live for the last who fucking knows how long," Bebe laughed.  
  
"Shush," Craig said as Pip shifted uncomfortably. "Sometimes people need help and we should help them."   
  
"And sometimes you bleed yourself dry trying to help dead weight," Bebe argued. "If you just helped yourself, you moron, then you'd probably have an apartment with a roommate. You know, like inside. With a roof and a heater and AC and all that good shit. But instead you're taking care of two goddamn losers, and they're gonna drag you down with them."   
  
Pip swallowed hard.   
  
"I'm not gonna toss a kid and a mentally ill man into the fucking void. You have to have a fucking conscious. Also we took all his money."   
  
Bebe threw her head back as she laughed. "How much did you two take?"   
  
"Three hundred dollars, and I sure as fuck can't pay him back, so I guess he can just stay with us until I can." Craig looked at Pip, who held the eye contact for a few moments, before breaking away. "We didn't think he was ever coming back."   
  
"Whatever. I'm not in the mood to argue with you," she pulled the blanket off his chest, and then off his legs. "Get out, because I've got business to adhere too, and I don't like to do it on the floor."   
  
"You shouldn't do that kind of business," Craig said, holding out a hand for Pip. He shakily took it, rising to his feet, which were bare. It hurt to stand, so he hunched in on himself. He limped out of the tent, smiling at Bebe.  
  
"Thanks," Pip offered.   
  
"Yeah, you're welcome," Bebe smiled while rolling her eyes as she shooed them away.    
  
Pip tried to smile back.  
  
"My mom always meets me at the road, so we've got to go that way. Want me to carry you?"" Pip did want Craig to carry him, and he wasn't sure if that was primarily motivated by pain, or fear, or desire to have an Alpha. He never remembered having such a high romantic drive.   
  
"Please?"  
  
"Yeah, I think your ribs are broken, and fuck, I forgot your shoes. We're not going to get them. Tweek threw a goddamn fit when I got you clothes. Called me a traitor and claimed that you suck my dick like all the time." Craig chuckled, then stopped, once they reached the road. "Tweek doesn't make you have sex with him while I'm at work, does he?"  
  
"No," Pip took a shaky breath.  
  
"You can tell me the truth, you know. He's sick," Craig sighed. "He needs medication, but all that shit costs money, and I sort of doubt he'd even take it. I don't know how he even lasted before I came along. He was a fucking wreck, you know?"   
  
"Yeah." Pip nuzzled into Craig's chest.  
  
"No," Craig's laughter made Pip's head bounce. "You really can't. That fucked up tarp tent, that's where he was staying, and apparently, he'd lived there as long as anyone could remember. He looked and smelled like trash, and when I stumbled onto their fucking hideaway one night, he tried to fucking take my head off with a stick. Like I was a pinata. Guy was low key terrifying."   
  
"A catch," Pip said, not unsarcastically. It was rude, and he knew it was rude, but if Tweek was such an asshole why did Craig go to such great lengths to protect him? Was Pip also an asshole? Did Craig just have a thing for freeloading assholes? He hoped not.   
  
"He can be really nice. Once he calmed down and I told him I just needed to sleep, he let me sleep next to him. None of the other assholes did. He didn't rob me as I slept, and he didn't hurt me, neither. You can't just lay next to people around here and expect that, you know? That has value. It's easier to be two homeless people than one homeless person. Tweek watches my shit and make sure Kenny doesn't steal it, or Cartman doesn't eat all the food." Craig's face lit up as he spoke, giving Pip a pang or remorse to hang along all the other pain he was feeling. "Plus he's pretty cute when he's cleaned up, right?"   
  
"I guess," Pip shivered in Craig's arms. The rain continued to drizzle.  
  
"I mean, you basically look the same, blue eyes, blonde hair,  fucked up teeth," Craig snickered. "Don't be mad, it's true. You both need some braces, or fuck, I don't know, at least a retainer."  Just when Pip thought he couldn't take anymore teasing, a car slowed in front of them. "That's my mom, so you know, be respectful, and all that."   
  
"Okay," Pip said, heaving his chest. He could handle respectful and all that, or at least he thought he could. 


	14. Chapter 14

"Craig Tucker!" A woman's voice rang out through a crack in the car window. "Is that you hurt friend? You have him outside in the rain?" 

"Didn't want to make you wait," Craig sighed. "Can we get in?" 

"Yes, you idiot. Get him in before he catches a cold on top of everything else." Pip could feel Craig's chin touch against his head as he nodded. It would be Pip's luck to catch a cold with a broken rib. "Is that a boy?"

"Yeah? What of it?" Craig asked putting Pip in the back seat, flat on his back. 

"Don't you use that tone with me," she scolded as the door slammed shut. She fumed silently in the front seat as Craig climbed in next to her. Pip wondered if this was how all moms acted, or just Craig's. "You just don't see boy Omegas very often. That's all."

It was a nice, if not modest car. A sedan. Pip didn't know that much about cars, but it smelled like vanilla and had one of those little yellow trees on the rear view mirror. He wouldn't mind a car like this. He wouldn't mind a car at all. If he had a car, then he could just sleep in it. 

"I'm sorry," Craig ran a hand through his hair while looking into the back seat. "Sorry." 

"I forgive you," she sounded tense, not forgiving, but Craig deflated a little, anyways. "So what is he? Does he sell services?" 

"Mom!" Craig whipped his head around as Pip blushed. Maybe it was the lightheaded feeling he was getting from not being able to take a full breath, or maybe it was just being in the presence of another human who had their shit infinitely more together than him, but he responded.

"I used to." 

"Wonderful," the woman sighed. "I'm taking a whore to the hospital. Are you on drugs again, Craig? Are you high right now?" 

"No, I'm not Mom. And Pip isn't a whore. I didn't meet him because he's a whore." 

"You just met him, and he says he's a whore while you say he isn't."

"I wasn't good at it," Pip offered. A silence fell over the car. That was the wrong thing to say, according to the glare Craig shot his way. He was supposed to be respectful. A good boy. "Thank you. Thank you for taking me." 

"You're welcome," the woman softened her posture a bit, her green shoulders sticking up a little less prominently from the backseat. "I just worry about you. I don't like you sleeping out there with all those vagrants. You have a job; you should have an apartment." 

"No one will rent to me," he groaned. "We've gone over this." 

"If you didn't do drugs Craig, this never would have happened," she said as she shifted the car into gear. The sudden jerk had Pip crying, but he did his best to tamper it down. "You'd be working with Clyde, probably have your own house, and maybe even some kids." 

"I'm not old enough to have kids," Craig argued. "But they're gonna hire me once my parole is up. I just gotta make like one more payment and Tweek and I are gonna go to Grand Junction." Pip felt a stab in his stomach at the reminder that he was being left behind. Would being in the presence of someone who was nice to him make it harder or easier to go back to having sex with strangers? Pip didn't know, and honestly didn't want to find out. 

"I don't want to talk about Tweek," she grumbled as they drove. "I heard Clyde has a kid, with some Mercedes girl. She's sweet but dumb. They're a good fit, I saw them at Christmas." 

"Neat," Craig said, miserable. "Just the nearest hospital. I'm sure he doesn't have insurance, so just whatever." 

"I'm driving," she sounded hostile. "We'll be there in a minute. Don't be so snappy with me because your friend fucked up." 

"I fucked up. I fucked up and he's hurt," Craig looked back at Pip, who managed to muster up a smile. He didn't fuck up. Pip certainly was hurt, but he wouldn't say it was Craig's fault. He'd say it was his fault, or Tweek's. It was certainly Tweek's fault, the more he thought about it. 

"It's not your fault," Pip said as loud as he could. He did not say Tweek's name.

"We can talk about whose fault it is in the waiting room, boys," the woman said, stopping the car. The lights inside flicked on, and he saw her long blonde hair and a thin pair of wiry glasses resting on the crown of her head. She was pretty. Older, but still attractive, as far as women go. Her face softened after holding his gaze for a few moments. "Come on, let's get him in." 

Craig nodded as Pip struggled to sit up. He managed to make it upright before Craig had gotten to the backseat, but he was not allowed to walk inside. 

"You need help?" The woman asked, digging around her glove box and bringing out an umbrella.

"He's real light," Craig shrugged. Pip grimaced as hands were put under his armpits, pressing too close to where he hit the tree. "Okay, I read you, bridal style," Craig snorted, scooting Pip out of the car and into his arms.

"He's so young," the woman said, holding an umbrella over him. "Where's your mom, sweetie? Do you parents know where you are?" 

Pip smiled, resisting the urge to scent himself on Craig's shirt. It wasn't good to do in public, much less in front of Craig's mom. She'd misunderstand the whole situation, think Craig was having an affair, and she'd be even more sour. He didn't answer her question, and once they were inside the hospital, she didn't ask it again. 

He dutifully gave Craig's mother his first and last name, and his birthday, and was whisked away to the waiting room. He dozed in and out as Craig held him, catching little bits of conversation between them. Craig's job was okay, he liked it, he guessed. And she was thinking of retiring, but she just didn't know. His sister was at summer camp, said she loved it, but his mom thought maybe she was lying. Trying to seem tough at her first Omegas only camp. 

"We moving?" Pip mumbled as Craig rose to his feet. Craig didn't say anything so Pip went back to sleep. It wasn't quite sleep, as it was far too loud, with people chatting and grabbing onto him. He was docile as they poked and prodded him. They gave him blankets, which was nice. Craig and his mom kept talking, though they were starting to laugh. 

They gave him a mask, wrapping it around his ears. The clear plastic bit into his skin, but the oxygen gave him immediate relief. He focused on breathing and the cadence of happy people at his bedside. It was relaxing, though he thought that maybe whatever was dripping in through his IV was doing the heavy lifting.

Sometimes a doctor would ask him a question and he'd try his best to answer, pulling the mask down slightly. Did he know his blood type? How long had he been in the cold? Did his chest hurt? Was he pregnant? 

Craig had answered maybe while Pip was still throwing the question back and forth in his mind. He didn't want to even think of it. There was a tech taking more of his blood before he even settled down with the idea. In their brief eye contact Craig smiled sympathetically as Craig's mom excused herself, saying something about work, but motioning for Craig to call her. 

"You'll be alright," Craig said as Pip tried to relax in bed. He had an IV in his arm, and an ice pack on his ribs. "Your temperature is back where it should be. They said you never really got that cold. Guess it's good it was summer." 

Pip's eyes lulled shut as Craig continued to ramble. Saying things like no matter what, he'd be okay. Talking about the universe and how people are made of stardust and they're all the same stardust since forever. But maybe Pip was making it up. He was delusional, probably on what did Bebe call it, Oxy? 

"I gotta call in to work," Craig said, touching Pip's shoulder. "It's all shitty and rainy, anyway, but boss wants a call. What a prick." 

"Is it morning?" Pip asked, looking around the hospital room. 

"Yeah, I just didn't want you to freak when I left. Anyway, there's a lady with a machine who wants to see you alone."

"I don't want to see anyone alone," Pip mumbled back. It still hurt to breathe, but it wasn't excruciating. As far as he knew, they hadn't even done anything yet.

"Tell her that," Craig told him with a shrug. "I'll be back in like four minutes."

"Okay," Pip sighed, careful not to move his chest too much. 

"I'm here to do an ultrasound," the woman smiled, wheeling in a huge machine. "You had a nasty fall, didn't you?" 

"Fight," Pip corrected her. 

"Did your Alpha hurt you?" She asked, gently. "He can't hear us. I know you haven't had a chance to tell anyone, because he's been next to you all night, but you can tell me." 

"He's not my Alpha," Pip spat. "I don't have an Alpha. I had a fight, and I lost." 

"Okay, okay," the woman cooed. "You don't have to talk about it. There are people who want to help you though. People care about you." Pip blinked back a few times before faking a smile. "Do you want him to come back?" 

"Yes." Pip tried not to sound too desperate. The woman frowned when she got up, like Pip had lied to her. Which he had, a little. He hadn't got in a fight, but it wasn't Craig who hurt him. And in fairness, that bit about how people cared for him had been a lie on her end. If they were both lying, it was okay. That was just the social contract. Lie to make the other person more comfortable.

"You okay?" Craig asked, returning to the chair by Pip's bed. A tray of food sat on the table covered by a beige plastic tray. He didn't remember getting food. Was it still warm? Could he eat it now? 

"I guess." He would have shrugged, but his range of movement was very limited. "Am I fixed?" He wanted to add if he could eat, but decided it wasn't worth the effort. 

"Nah, they wanted to see, uh," Craig looked around nervously, "they want to see some things, I guess.." 

"Just so we can make the best choices for you." The woman smiled from behind her machine. She looked so chipper. Pip certainly didn't feel happy or excited. A pit of dread grew in his stomach, gnawing on him as she pulled up a hospital gown he didn't even realize he was wearing. When had he gotten a pair of heat pants? "It's gonna be a little cold. I've got a couple different places to look, so be patient." 

Pip looked at Craig, who just shrugged. At least neither of them knew what she was talking about. 

"I'm going to look for your kidneys first. There's some bruising the doctor was uncomfortable with, so we're just trying to make sure you're healthy. Can you lift your hands above your head?" 

"No," Pip said, without even trying. He felt drowsiness resting behind his eyes, pulling them shut. "I hit a tree," he said, using one hand to pull at the mask. 

"I thought you had a fight," the woman said. He peaked through his lashes to see the woman glaring at Craig.

"My friend threw him at a fucking tree," Craig spat. "They were fighting." 

"Sounds like a pretty uneven fight," the woman said.

"Yeah, losing a fight always sucks." The pleather of Craig's chair let out a squeak as he adjusted his weight. "You wanted to look at his kidneys?"

"I will get there," the woman said, as something metal clattered. Pip jumped, opening his eyes wider as he gasped in pain. She had just dropped the safety bar at the side of the bed and the noise happened again as she dropped the other side. Pip jumped, even knowing it was coming. "Sir, I think you need to step out." 

"Are you kidding me?" Craig asked. "Are you fucking joking?" 

"Sir, I don't want to have to call security," the woman's words were pointed. "Leave so I can examine the patient." 

"He wants me here," Craig looked over at Pip. He was trying to keep his eyes open as his cheeks burned red. She thought Craig was beating him, he guessed. What else could she have thought? "Look, Pip, I'll be back when she leaves. Just hang tight, dude." 

Pip didn't say anything as the mask whirled. He whimpered when his arms were moved above his head, her hands manipulating his left hand to hold his right wrist. The gel was cold, but not unbearable. He was fairly certain that the last couple of months had proved that nothing could be unbearable. He lived through plenty of things he didn't think he could. And eventually the searing pain of holding his arms up would be a memory. 

A shitty memory, but just a memory.

"Kidneys look good, but I'm going to show it to your doctor, anyway. Just to be sure." She pointed the screen. It didn't look like anything he could recognize. She ran a scratchy towel down his sides, sloughing some of the goop off, then looked toward the door. "Your hCG is high, so I'm just going to do a quick scan of your tummy. As a precaution before any x-rays. To make our best decisions." 

She turned the screen toward him, inching it a little closer before rubbing the wand and gel on his stomach. Pip's fought to watch as the woman pressed into his belly. The way his skin stretched hurt as a black circle showed up on the screen. In the black circle was what Pip could only describe as a blob. 

With his arms locked over his head, he didn't move the mask to ask her what the fuck was happening. He unlinked them, but even that small jostling hurt. She was measuring things on the screen with the computer, making offhanded comments that it looked good, and was fine. After the fourth fine to leave her mouth, Pip ripped the bandage off and moved the mask.

"What is that?" He asked, knowing full well exactly what was happening.

"That's your baby," the woman smiled, adjusting the screen. "Looks like they didn't get as hurt as you in your fight." 

Feeling lightheaded, he pulled the mask back into place. He had inklings, sure. They'd repeated over and over in sex ed that if you had unprotected sex in heat, you'd get pregnant. Damien had given him that pill for the first time, so he just assumed he'd given him something else. It's not like he'd want a pregnant whore. It's not like Damien purposely planned kicking him out of the hotel. Was Pip not worth the cost of a morning after pill? 

He supposed not, as the woman printed off a picture. She placed it in his hands before wheeling the cart out of the room. She made a brief mention of how a social worker would see him, and how he should tell the truth. He gulped, not even bothering to say goodbye. 

There was a flurry of people in and out of his room as he tried to let the gravity of the situation sink in. Someone, a man, was changing out the bag for his IV. Pip didn't ask about what was happening. He laid as still as he could, not bothering to sit up when a tray was placed in front of him. When the nurse moved the bed for him, he whimpered in pain, but otherwise kept quiet. 

By the time Craig came back, it felt like his ribs were on fire. He couldn't even focus on the main problem, the pregnancy. Every breath hurt. It didn't hurt like this before the ultrasound. Was he being punished? It didn't help that everything was so sterile. There were no scents he could pick up on through his mask, even as Craig crept close to the bed. 

He should have been able to smell him. 

"The lady at the big desk said your doctor would be here soon," Craig said, taking his place back in his chair. "I complained about that bitch, and then called my mom. She's worried. I told her we don't know anything because they're taking forever and think I'm some kind of monster, I guess." Craig rolled his eyes as Pip tried to focus. "God, that woman was a trip. Sorry I took so long, but I just didn't want to be near her. Like, holy fuck, dude." 

Holy fuck, indeed, Pip thought, crinkling the printout in his hand. He held the paper out, releasing it from his grip. It fluttered to the floor. 

"You mean to drop that?" Craig leaned over in his seat, picking it up. He froze once he was upright, eyes squinted. "Oh shit." Craig was smiling, just the faintest hint of a smile, really. His fingers gently touched the image like he was petting it. 

"It could be mine or Tweek's, you know," Craig sounded far away. "I didn't think I was old enough, but if Clyde is, if they'll give fucking Clyde a baby, then they'll give anyone one." He chuckled as Pip curled his toes beneath the hospital blanket. They weren't going to give him a baby. He was going to carry the baby for nine months, then give birth to it. It's not like they were just going to the store to pick it up. It's not like there was a real they, anyways.

There was him, and that was it.

"It looks like a guinea pig. It's crazy to think that becomes a baby. Like, in just months, that's a baby. Omegas are nuts," Craig laughed again in disbelief. "You didn't look fat before. Guess that'll change." 

"Stop," Pip whispered, finally pulling the mask away. He looking at the food in front of him. Craig didn't hear, or didn't care, because he kept rubbing the picture, looking at it and mumbling to himself about the implications of a baby. "It's not, I had a lot of..." Pip dropped the phrase as Craig paused, studying his face. 

"Oh, this is bad news to you, isn't it?" Craig wondered aloud as Pip managed a deadpan look. "I mean, someone will adopt it. I'm sure someone will. People fucking love babies," Craig laughed, "obviously. I mean, what's not to like? God, I guess you don't like babies. I've never met an Omega that didn't like kids, but I guess it happens. Do you just not like this kid?"

Pip looked at the jello on his plate, hopeful that he could will the tray into a shield from the conversation. He didn't hate kids. And he didn't not like the kid, he didn't think. Maybe he didn't like it. He ran a hand over his stomach, flinching as the muscles pulled at his ribs. He couldn't be that pregnant. He wasn't attached to it, so why was Craig? Was it Alpha instinct to protect a pregnant Omega? Was that what had bought him as much time as he had with the two of them? 

"It hurts to talk," Pip said, not looking him in the eyes as he made a tiny gap in the mask. "It's a lot." 

"Yeah, but it's gonna be okay. It's not like we're gonna live in a tent forever, and it could be fun," none of it really sounded fun to Pip, but he closed his eyes and listened to Craig talk anyway. "I'm gonna ask my mom if we can stay with her. I mean, I can't stay with her because of the stupid fucking bylaws in the trailer park, but you could. I bet she'd let you sleep in my room. She already texted me asking if you were okay. She said it was my job to make sure you were okay. So, I'll do my job, and she'll help, I bet." 

"It's not yours," Pip said. Why weren't they fixing his ribs? Did his ribs not matter if he was pregnant? It was nice to be inside somewhere warm in the morning and cold in the afternoon, but why weren't they coming to fix the problem?

"It could be." 

Pip didn't bother to take off his mask to keep arguing. Lots of things could be. He could have been a student at CSU, but he wasn't. He could have spent the last 12 years living with his father, but he didn't. It wasn't good to build a life on things that could be. Things were or they weren't. Even for someone as optimistic as him, that had become apparent. 

"I bet they took you off your drugs," Craig mused, looking at him. "You look like you're hurting. I guess babies can't have painkillers. That sucks." Craig scrapped his chair along the floor to be directly at Pip's bedside. A few hours ago, Pip might have been touched by this notion, maybe even feel a wave of guilt for monopolizing Craig's time, but now he could hardly bring himself to care. 

"No offense," Craig snorted, in a teasing kind of way, "but if they have a shower, you should take one. You can't just not bathe for over a month. Do you want me to cut your hair? I can have my mom come and do it, if you want." 

How was he supposed to care about his hair? Craig placed a hand on his stomach and Pip couldn't even bring himself to care about that. He didn't care when a man in a brown button up came in, and he cared even less when Craig pulled away.

"Knock knock," Pip rolled his eyes as Craig sat upright. "How are you feeling?" Pip didn't respond. He hadn't even bothered to introduce himself, so why should he. It obviously didn't matter if he was in pain. "Looks like you had a nasty fall." 

"Fight," Pip moved the mask to his neck. "A fight." 

"Wonderful," the blonde man smiled, his blue eyes mischievous. "How becoming of a young Omega, tussling in the streets." Pip took a long shaky breath. This man didn't have a scent, unless he was on scent blockers. Why wouldn't he be? He scrunched up his nose, while Craig looked around somewhat dazed. "When I was a lad I was prone to the occasional skirmish. Glad to see it's the same throughout the secondary sexes despite what the literature says." 

"Who are you?" Pip asked, trying to pin down his accent. 

"You can call me Gregory. Or Greg, as the kids are doing. I prefer Gregory, though. What should I call you?" He looked down at his clipboard, then looked at Craig. "And who is this?" 

"We live together," Craig said. "I let him live with me. We're not anything. I certainly didn't fucking hurt him. I'm not a goddamn monster." 

"No one is saying you are," Gregory held his hands up. "But I think it might be best if I spend a few minutes with Philip alone. Just to sort out family history. That sort of thing can be embarrassing. Omegas can get shy when it comes to heat cycles, pre heat and post heat, and that sort of information is important." 

Craig rose from his chair, face scrunched in disgust. Was he that freaked out by heat cycles? Really? He left the room with the sour look still on his face, shutting the door behind him. 

"I'm a social worker," Gregory said, taking Craig's seat. "I'm afraid I'm not here to talk about your heat cycles." 

Of course he wasn't.

"Craig didn't do anything to me," Pip rasped. He was starting to feel light headed again, so he pulled the mask back to his his mouth. He had hoped the pain of moving would get to a point where he could numb it out, but it wasn't there yet. 

"No one is saying that your Alpha did anything," the man scribbled onto the paper. "We are just concerned about your general state." 

"I don't have an Alpha," Pip adjusted the mask to talk, grimacing.

"The woman who did your ultrasound said you were thrown against a tree?" Pip nodded slightly. "Do you want to talk about that?" Pip shook his head. "Okay, well do you want to discuss why you haven't bathed?" 

"It's complicated," Pip flushed. "I, um," he panted, trying to breathe. Gregory moved the mask back over his face, and smiled sadly. 

"Take your time. They think you might have punctured your lung, so don't push yourself on my account." Pip did as he was told, regaining his breath before trying to explain the situation.

"I don't like walking to the gym," Pip decided that was the most concise way to answer him. 

"You shower at the gym?" Pip nodded. "Does your home not have running water?" Pip stalled as he chewed his lip beneath the mask. "It's okay, we don't have to talk about that if it's embarrassing. Hygiene is important to your self worth though. It's important to bathe." 

He wrote on his paper for a few moments as Pip stared at the ceiling. After a while, Pip anxiously moved his mask away.

"Am I in trouble?" 

"No, you're not. And everything you say here is confidential," Gregory smiled, dazzling white teeth. Pip was sure that his mouth didn't look like that. "I just want to make sure you have a safe and comfortable home to return to." 

"I don't," Pip blurted out. He struggled to suck in a breath, as Gregory continued to write. "It's not Craig. He's great. I don't have a home." 

"So you're staying with Craig?" Pip nodded as Gregory looked up. "Is his home nice?" 

"It's a tent," Pip mumbled. Gregory looked puzzled for a few seconds, until Pip repeated himself as loud as he could muster. "I live in a tent." 

"Oh, that's quite the predicament, isn't it. That must be frightening." 

"Uh-huh," Pip said. Gregory's hand caught his wrist as he adjusted the mask back into place. Pip could hear his heartbeat in his ears and tried his best to calm down as the monitor beeps sped up. 

"Forgive me," Gregory said, dropping his wrist. "It's just an interesting tattoo. Where did you get it?" He looked at the tattoo, angel wings in black ink, and frowned. "Do you like it?" Pip stared dumbfounded at his wrist. "I have a friend who has that exact same tattoo. He didn't like it. He doesn't like to talk about that tattoo." 

"It wasn't Craig," Pip said, careful to hold his wrist inward. 

"Okay," Gregory said, sounding unconvinced. "Do you want to talk about who gave it to you?" No, Pip did not. "It just wasn't Craig. But you live with Craig in a tent. So you need some sort of housing arrangement?" 

"I don't have any money," Pip said before placing the mask back on his face. 

"Noted. It says on your chart that you're 18? Okay, so you're not a minor. Is it possible to call your parents?" Pip shook his head as Gregory wrote things down. Pip was just a little bit too low to see what he was writing. "Okay, any other family members? I imagine you would have called them before living in a tent." 

He absolutely would have called everyone he knew before sleeping in a tent. It was just a shame he didn't know very many people.

"Your paperwork says you're pregnant. Are you excited about the baby?" Gregory asked, looking up from his paperwork with a grin. Pip shook his head before he could think better of himself. "It can be scary," Gregory tempered his grin into something kinder. "We're at a Catholic hospital, but if you go somewhere else they might be able to help you with a full range of options." 

It didn't dawn on Pip what Gregory was referring to. What option was he missing? He was pregnant and now he had to have a baby. That's what happens. 

"There are some limited resources. Some overnight shelters that might have beds, and when the baby is born you might get TANF. I can call around but it still puts you at a loss when it comes to your days. Shelters aren't the best options." Gregory tapped his mouth with his pen. "Organizations that reform prostitutes," Pip flinched at the word, looking away from Gregory. "I mean, people who have tattoos. Shit. Most places that take in those people are for women only, and you're not a woman." 

"You think I'm a whore?" Pip whispered. Was everyone going to see his tattoo and think he was a prostitute? He grimaced, trying to imagine a life for himself where everyone immediately knew. How would he go to the store? How would he go to work? He tried to imagine himself at a parent teacher conference, and all he could see was the teachers disapproving look.

"You're not in trouble," Gregory repeated. "It's a systemic problem, with young Omegas. It happens more than you'd think. A nice Alpha leads a kid on to thinking they'll be mates, and then they're in the sex trade. I see it a lot. Usually girls. Girls who tell people they got thrown against a tree in a fight." 

"I made an Alpha mad, and he threw me," Pip admitted before snapping the mask back into place. 

"Alpha's shouldn't touch you," Gregory looked Pip up and down. "They shouldn't ever throw you, no matter how mad they get. I have never been so mad I threw someone." Pip couldn't imagine this middle aged man throwing anyone. "That's abusive." 

Pip thought to himself that he'd tell Tweek not to throw him again. That it was wrong. He rolled his eyes, imagining the conversation. 

"I will talk to my friend about what resources he used when he left, and get back to you tomorrow." Gregory flipped a paper. "I'm not going to do your discharge evaluation today, because you're not leaving today. Any suicidal feelings?" 

"What?" Pip asked as Gregory repeated himself. "I don't know?" Pip scrunched up his face. Gregory shook his head, and wrote some more down. 

"I'm putting you down as a no," Gregory sighed. "Don't do anything stupid. I will see you tomorrow."


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a note, I am relying fairly heavily on Christophe and Gregory's Les Mis characterizations, so if they don't seem the way you envision them from the 5 total minutes of screen time they got in the South Park movie as 10 year olds, that's why.
> 
> Also I'm gonna put some updated trigger warnings at the end so jump down if you want to see.

"I gotta check on Tweek."   
  
That was the first thing Craig said as soon as the doctor left. He'd spent all of five minutes discussing Pip's condition, what they thought was a small lung puncture, a fractured rib, and how he was underweight and pregnant. He talked about pain relief, and how the Tylenol and Ibuprofen in his IV was the best they could do. And Pip couldn't forget the lecture he got about not sleeping outside in the rain.  
  
Because people just chose to sleep outside while it was raining.   
  
They hadn't even moved Pip out of the ER when Craig left.   
  
It was fine, it's not like he needed Craig as he sat alone in a hospital room. He couldn't smell scents through his oxygen mask, and talking took too much energy, anyway. He'd at least left his phone number scribbled on a piece of scrap paper, and gotten his new room number from the nurse. He promised he'd be back tomorrow.   
  
Pip didn't know how much he trusted that promise, but he tried to remain calm.  
  
It was just the hospital, and he could handle it.   
  
It was a nice room in a nice hospital. There was TV on the wall he could change to anything he wanted to watch, and he had a special bottle for water. The straw made it so he didn't have to move his arms very far, which was kind. It was a nice place filled with nice people.  
  
The nurse who brought him dinner was kind enough to ask him what sort of food would sit well with his stomach, and though he didn't know what to tell her, he was fairly certain there was an extra carton of apple juice when she returned. Maybe everyone got two apple juices, and maybe every nurse said to call for her if the food didn't feel right.   
  
He ate the whole bowl of chicken soup, both juices and eight packages of saltine crackers by the time she came back to him. She seemed happy he ate it, proud almost. Pip was probably reading into the female attention more than he ought to, but it was nice to think she was invested.  
  
"I think it's time for a bath," she said, brown hair cut short around her head as she wheeled in a cart with a basin. Pip leaned forward, freezing when the nurse laughed. "No, we're going to keep your oxygen in.  And we need you to relax, that's why you have the catheter. Just lay in bed and relax, okay?"   
  
Pip tried to relax as a rag ran over his skin. It was uncomfortable to have another person touch him. A stranger was touching his face, an absolute stranger. It was just like before. She might as well have been an Alpha using him. There was nothing to stop her from doing whatever she wanted to him. He was defenseless.  
  
"Are you okay?" She asked as the heart monitor beeped erratically behind him.   
  
No, he was not okay. He shook his head, his eyes blown open wide. Even with the mask on, it felt like he couldn't get enough air. He repositioned it, hoping that it was just a technical glitch.   
  
It wasn't.  
  
"We can get someone you know to bathe you, if that would be more comfortable," the nurse smiled as she dragged her cart out of the room. He wondered if she was disappointed in him. He was filthy, he knew he was.  
  
He'd fallen asleep in the mud outside for Christ's sake. He needed to be cleaned off, and he couldn't stomach it.   
  
What other things could he not handle? Was he ever going to be able to get a job? Go back to school? Could he even care for a child?  
  
How could someone who couldn't be bothered to bathe take care of a baby? He tried to hold those fears at bay as a man wrapped fondant around a cake. It was calming, watching someone methodically make things. He tried to reassure himself that in a normal situation he would have never let things get so out of hand.  
  
Surely, if he had a shower at his disposal, he would have used it. He would not have hid in his own filth as a stranger took care of him if he had another choice. He was not a leech.   
  
He was just scared, he decided, as the baker stacked pieces of cake into a tower. Anyone would have been scared. Everyone would be scared if they were him.  
  
Even Damien, Pip decided. Even Damien would be afraid if he was a pregnant Omega that was homeless and in the hospital.   
  
It wasn't bad to be afraid, anyway. His teacher in 6th grade gym had said that it was okay to be scared, but you had to do it anyway. And really, just by existing he was doing it anyway. All he had to do was continue to exist and it was fine.  
  
Just fazing in and out of sleep while staff checked on him was enough. It was fine that he asked the nurse to keep the lights on, and that he kept the TV on the whole night. Those sorts of concessions were allowable.   
  
Screaming when a man walked into his room was allowable, too. It was maybe more allowable that the oxygen mask swallowed up most of the sound.   
  
"Hush," the man said in a thick accent. "This is who you wanted me to see?"   
  
"I wanted a list of resources, not a visit," a familiar voice said. When Gregory rounded the corner, Pip allowed himself to sink back into his bed.   
  
"I told you, dumb fucker Alpha, there are no resources," the man laughed as he shoved Gregory's arm. Pip studied the frown on Gregory's face, the sturdy cut of his jaw and the furrow of his brows. He had described this man as his friend, hadn't he?  
  
"It is time to be serious, Christophe," Gregory scolded. "This is a serious problem that needs a serious solution."   
  
"Then don't bring it up when I am seriously flirting with you over serious coffee."    
  
"We were simply eating breakfast," Pip watched as the other man, Christophe's face fell while Gregory spoke. "If I had more money, I'd go out for coffee, rest assured. No need to stay in that wretched house for longer than necessary."   
  
"And if I had more of a fucking spine I wouldn't be talking to some whore you met. Do you want my blessings on the union? Do you think that much of me?" Christophe laughed, strolling toward the bed as Pip pulled the mask off his face. His stomach sunk as Gregory sighed. "Let's see the tart you've cradle robbed for a mate."    
  
"There are more important things than mating. I just needed to know what resources you used to leave your profession and then you can leave as well," Gregory grabbed Christophe by the arm, spinning him. Within seconds Christophe was buried in the crook of Gregory's neck, hands on snaked around his hips.   
  
"What makes you think I left?" Pip couldn't believe his eyes as Christophe placed a kiss on Gregory's cheek, then plopped down in the chair next to the bed.   
  
"You're insufferable. There's an epidemic! You should care! You should care that young Omegas are being forced into sex work. You of all people should care." Gregory preached, as Pip slid his mask back into place. Anything he tried to say would just be swallowed up by their argument. He didn't think he had anything of value to add to the two grown men fighting or flirting. He wasn't sure if this was courtship or a disagreement, but regardless it felt like something he was not supposed to be privy to.  
  
"And you shouldn't care," Christophe snorted, turning back toward Pip. "We all do things we shouldn't. I bet you enjoy a lot of things you shouldn't, don't you?"   
  
With a man looming over him, Pip tilted his head to the side. A sign of submission, just in case this man thought he was encroaching on his territory. He trembled when Christophe leaned forward, scenting him. He sniffed a few times, then pulled away.  
  
"This is wildly inappropriate," Gregory groaned. "I can't trust you with even the simplest of tasks. First you ruin my coffee every morning, presumably on purpose, and now this." Pip held still as Gregory continued to chastise Christophe. "I think you do these things on purpose. You're content being miserable so every other soul on the planet must just wallow in the state of things. I'm not having it. I'm not going to just let him walk right back into the arms of whoever did this to him."   
  
"Shhh," Christophe's breath tickled the nape of Pip's neck. "Shhh. You're okay, Pip. It's okay." He felt his muscles seize as Christophe pulled the mask away from his mouth. With two hands on his cheeks, he turned toward the man, and inhaled. "These fucking Alphas, right?"   
  
It was a very familiar smell. Comforting in a way he could not quite place, even if the coffee that clung to his clothes reminded him of Tweek.   
  
"How do you know his name? If you went through my paperwork, that's a felony. You can't do that." 

"Because I picked it, fuckface," Christophe hissed. "It'd be shitty to forget your kid's name. Shitty even for me."   
  
"Oh dear," Pip squeaked out as Gregory inched closer.  
  
"You never mentioned having any kids," Gregory said, disbelieving. "Don't lie to get out of a different lie."   
  
"You never asked if I had kids," Christophe snorted a laugh. "We have not reached that stage in our relationship, no? If we had gotten there I would tell you I have two children, the oldest who is an asshole, and the youngest who is gone."   
  
"Did you get rid of me because I'm an asshole?" Pip asked as the scent in the room turned. He wondered if he was the one doing it, putting out distress signals for some Alpha to save him, or it was Christophe trying to get Gregory's attention.   
  
"I do not want to speak of this," Christophe turned, sitting back down. "It's not good to talk about."   
  
"Oh, your mystery children aren't good topics of conversation?" Gregory scoffed, taking a seat next to him. "Well, do you know what maybe would be a better conversation? Let's discuss Pip's care. Is that good to talk about? I need your permission, Pip."   
  
"Permission?" Pip asked, staring at Christophe. His face was unshaven, speckled with black hair. Pip had never been able to grow facial hair, he thought it was normal for Omegas. He'd never even seen pictures of a male Omega with a beard. But beneath all the coffee and dirt, his scent was an Omega, Pip was fairly sure.   
  
"I have to maintain confidentiality."   
  
"I suppose it's okay," Pip smiled slightly, pulling the oxygen mask back over his face.   
  
"Let me see your tattoo," Christophe demanded, grabbing at his wrist. He traced the black ink a few times, before looking him up and down. "Mother fucker. Did you have sex with Damien?"   
  
"Who is Damien?" Gregory asked, pulling out his pen to make notes.   
  
"The asshole," Christophe grumbled, placing a hand on Pip's stomach. "Is that Damien's?" Pip shied away, looking at the bedside table instead of his guests. Had he been in better health, Damien's name might have been enough to have him bolt out of the room. "Excuse me," Christophe said, rising from his chair with his face aflame. Pip wondered if gritting his teeth so hard hurt.    
  
"Who is Damien?" Gregory asked again. "It would be helpful to know."    
  
"He's a goddamn piece of shit! I should have fucking aborted him as soon as I came to fucking America! First stop off the plane should have been killing him. Sanctity of life and God's plan my ass. God doesn't give a shit and he sure as hell doesn't make plans," Christophe shouted as he left the room.  
  
"I have no clue what he's talking about," Gregory sighed. "He might be drunk. I thought he was sober this morning, but why would he be sober at 5 am?"   
  
Pip didn't know either, but judging by the shouts from the hallway, it wasn't good. He'd never heard so many curse words in his life. He wasn't even entirely sure what he meant by pig fucker, or why he was telling whoever he was talking to eat donkey balls.   
  
"Oh, dear Lord," Gregory groaned, getting up to check on Christophe. They argued in the hallway, with Christophe screaming that he wasn't drunk and that everything was bullshit. How there were no right choices, because everything just goes to shit.   
  
They returned with Christophe clawing at his eyes in a fury, and Gregory looking at the ground with disappointment. They sat in tense silence, with the various machines Pip was attached to beeping.  
  
"It's nice to meet you," Pip whispered. "I always wondered what my dad was like." He hadn't imagined he came from a double Omega relationship, but the woman he remembered must have been his mom. And this man in front of him was the man who didn't pick him up from the airport. He didn't seem British, but Pip had never been too good with accents.   
  
"Your child is sleeping in a tent," Gregory sneered. "Some Alpha threw him against a tree, and he spent the better part of a day covering for him."   
  
"There are worse places to sleep," Christophe sighed. "If he's in a tent, then he isn't with them. Who ever threw him was just pissed. Happens." He was so nonchalant. Pip swallowed thickly as he looked at Gregory. "He was smart enough to trade sex for a place to sleep. Good for him."   
  
"That's not good," Gregory gawked. "Nothing in this situation is good."   
  
"What you don't trade, Alphas take," Christophe shrugged. "Most Alphas have boners for Omegas, not saving them from unsafe homes. How many other Alpha social workers do you know?"   
  
"Christophe, I am with a patient. There is no need to cause a scene." Gregory heaved a sigh as he looked back at Pip. "He's being discharged today and he needs resources to have a place to rest. And therapy. Where did you get those resources?"   
  
"Resources?" Christophe laughed, slapping Gregory on the back. "I ran away and ran into you. I thought I'd charm you, but it's slow going."   
  
"This is no time for jokes. There's no need to be ashamed about this sort of thing, just give me names and phone numbers so we can get him on his feet."   
  
"There are no feet," Christophe said, patting Pip as he spoke. "I ran away after they took him and we became roommates. There is no magic therapy for prostitutes." Christophe paused, pulling his hand back. "There is wine."   
  
"Christ, our system is garbage," Gregory scribbled on his paper. "We as a society to do more to protect those who need protection. We shouldn't just let them loose for the haves to cannibalize the have nots."   
  
"Sorry kid," Christophe exhaled, looking glumly at Pip. "I didn't look once I was settled. It seemed like a waste of fucking time. Not that everything isn't, but no need to risk a safe spot to sleep. You know how it is."  He rose from his seat, letting his hand rest on Gregory's shoulder before walking away slowly. "I'm a shitty parent, if it's any consolation."   
  
Pip and Gregory were silent as Christophe left the room, slowly shutting the door behind him. After the click of the latch, Gregory ran a hand through his hair and groaned.   
  
"You are getting discharged today, as long as your lung doesn't collapse, and I don't have a place to discharge you." He shuffled through his papers as Pip looked up at the ceiling. He hadn't expected them to find a place. Why would they?   
  
"It was nice you tried," Pip said. He genuinely believed it, too. It was nice that a stranger, an Alpha stranger no less, tried to secure him a stable place to live, let alone therapy and other services. "And it was nice to have company. And meeting him was nice, too."   
  
Christophe hadn't left any contact information as he left, which just cemented that his father didn't want him, and that was fine. He couldn't make people want their kids. Maybe Pip wouldn't want his baby, either. A knot formed in his stomach at the thought of just abandoning his kid, letting this happen to them.   
  
"It was a disaster," Gregory bemoaned. "I've been his roommate for twelve years and he never mentioned any children. Ever."   
  
"Maybe I wasn't worth mentioning," Pip wondered aloud before securing the mask. His foster family had done that, on occasion. They'd have company and they'd talk about how they had one kid, even when Pip was in earshot. Maybe his foster family was like that because his first family was that way. Maybe it was just something about him.   
  
"I'm not sending you back to a tent," Gregory said, snapping upright in his seat so fast it startled Pip. "I didn't take this job so I could send people back to the same mess they came from. And sending you to a shelter might be worse. More Alphas, less privacy." He wrote so fast that his hand looked like a blur, and handed Pip a piece of paper and a pen.   
  
"This is your discharge plan," Gregory said. "That's my address, where you will be staying. I'll look harder at other options, and see what I can come up with."   
  
"I'm going to live with you?" Pip asked, shifting his weight in bed. "My social worker from before said she wasn't allowed to do that."   
  
He remembered begging his first social worker to let him live with her. He made her mother's day cards, and father's day cards, but she had always told him it was against her ethics. That she couldn't become so deeply involved with him, and that she was sorry.   
  
"You had another social worker?"  
  
"A bunch. I asked one to be my mom and she said it wasn't allowed," Pip smiled. "Maybe I just annoyed her and she wanted me to stop asking." He chuckled, letting the oxygen mask rest around his neck. If they were making him leave in a couple hours anyway, he probably didn't need that. It's not like he'd have oxygen wherever he ended up.   
  
"You were in foster care?" Gregory asked, writing again. "Did foster care remove you from Christophe's custody?"  
  
"I don't think so. I went on an airplane from England and my dad was supposed to get me." Pip shifted again, signing the paper. "I think I went on an airplane. I don't know."   
  
The more Pip thought about the whole situation the less sure he was. He couldn't remember any exact dates or times. He didn't even really remember what his house looked like. He did remember a woman telling him that his Dad was English, but maybe she lied. Maybe everyone had lied and they'd found him in the woods not the airport.   
  
Maybe they didn't even lie and he had been too stupid to realize what they were saying.   
  
"Did you run away?" Gregory asked, still writing.  
  
"They wanted me to leave so I left." Pip hadn't thought there'd be another option. "I was going to go to CSU," Pip held the paper with his new address nervously. "I didn't even graduate, because he found me first."   
  
"That's awful," Gregory sighed. "I will look for more resources once you're discharged. There has to be a program that will take male Omegas. Even if I have to beg for an exception."   
  
"Am I really going home with you?" Pip chewed his lip. This man was his supposed father's roommate. Not that he'd think anyone would lie about being his dad. He wasn't a prize, especially not pregnant and hurt. It's not like parents clamored to exclaim they had a pregnant teenager.   
  
"It's a short term solution to your problem," Gregory hemmed and hawed as he finished filling out paperwork. "And I'd love to sit here and discuss matters with you for the rest of the day, but I'm already an hour behind for my workload and I have to find Christophe and make sure he isn't causing a scene."   
  
Pip nodded, handing back his paper. He hadn't signed anything in a long time, and it felt a bit like being back in school. Like Gregory was his teacher and they were having a conference. Not that he'd ever had a personal conference with a teacher, but he'd daydreamed about it sometimes.   
  
Only if the teacher was nice. He had a wonderful English teacher in 8th grade, a tall Alpha that wore silly ties to school every day. And Pip used to imagine that he'd become his new dad, and they'd talk about all the books they liked over dinner, and he'd never get a B on an essay again. Not because of nepotism, but because being so close to his teacher all the time would make him smart. He'd proof read it before he turned it in, because that's what parents did on TV, and he'd get a chance to correct all his mistakes before it was graded.   
  
"I will be back when they discharge you."  
  
Pip smiled and nodded.  
  
Even if he didn't come back, he'd have a few good hours to envision a life where he lived with his supposed dad and his dad's roommate, and that was worth something. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for incest and alcoholism. Like for the rest of the fic it's probably going to be talked about a lot.


	16. Chapter 16

When Christophe returned to his room after lunch, Pip was surprised. A large part of him that he had worked to silence had just assumed that was it. He'd never see that man again, and things with Gregory would fall through. That the whole scene was the universe flaunting things he couldn't have right under his nose.   
  
"Sorry, kiddo," Christophe said, sinking into the chair closest to the bed. "Just sorry."   
  
Pip went to remove the oxygen mask, to tell him that it was fine, but it wasn't. None of this was fine, and he didn't see the point in wasting his breath to lie while his chest was on fire. Instead he turned his head to look at Christophe, an effort to memorize his face when he inevitably left again.   
  
He was hairy, Pip noted with a smile. Too hairy. If it wasn't for the scent that had rolled off of him in waves as they spoke earlier, Pip would have sworn he was a Beta. He couldn't decide if it was better or worse that his father was an Omega. At least they had things in common, even if they were just heat cycles and habits of submission.  
  
He watched carefully as Christophe ran a hand through his hair, tussling it. Pip caught sight of black ink near his wrist as he put his hands back in his lap. Did they really match? It didn't make sense for him to know Damien, unless he was well into his thirties. Maybe Damien had lied to him, and he was the same age as the man sitting across from him.   
  
"Do you want to talk?" Christophe asked, inching closer. "You don't have to, but I want to." He sighed, picking at his jeans. Pip slid the mask out of place, and offered a shaky smile.   
  
"Hurts to talk," Pip admitted, then paused as Christophe looked away guiltily. His eyes filled up with tears as he scowled at his shoes. "Do you hate me?"   
  
Pip hadn't meant to ask that. In all honesty, he didn't think he could handle hearing a yes. He'd learned he couldn't ask questions he didn't want to know the answer to, and then be hurt when the reception was bad.   
  
"It's complicated," Christophe said, picking grime out from under his nails.   
  
Pip bit his cheeks. It's complicated was as good as a yes as far as he was concerned. It was the same thing, really. Saying it's complicated was just being kind enough to not admit out loud that he hated him. Like not making Pip hear him say that he hated him was some sort of comfort.   
  
"It's okay to hate me," Pip did his best to force a smile. "Lots of people hate me, so it's not surprising. I shouldn't have asked." Pip adjusted the mask around his neck. "It's okay. I'm not mad." Who had the energy to be mad from a hospital bed?  
  
"If you were less of a pussy, you'd be furious," Christophe spat. "You should be so mad you fucking shoot me."   
  
"But I'm not," Pip laughed, wincing as his rib cage jiggled. "It's okay. God knows I'm an inconvenience."  
  
"God doesn't know shit," Christophe barked, standing up straight. Even with his scent, Pip cowered beneath him. "Why the fuck are you like this? Kids are supposed to be like their fucking parents. Neither of us would just roll over like a stupid dog in heat and just let the world fuck us."   
  
"It's easier," Pip looked away, staring toward the door. He briefly thought about pushing the call button, getting someone to whisk him away. That'd ruin his chances of getting a place to stay, and that wasn't worth the risk. Even if his chances of having a new place to sleep were slim.  
  
"I didn't look for you because it was easier," Christophe said, sitting back down. "Guess we have that in common. Maybe you're just fucking like me, and you'll shack up with some Alpha who doesn't even like you. Sound good? That's obviously why my sister bribed my way to America, for us to be a bunch of quivering cowards." She would be his aunt, right? Pip tried to map out a family tree, imagining all the people who could be in it. Those were always the worst projects for school. Nothing quite like coming in with a poster board with just your name and birthday and a picture of yourself.  
  
Nothing like the class teasing you after your twenty second presentation, either.   
  
"Whose my mom?" Pip asked as Christophe ground his teeth together. They made brief eye contact before Pip closed his eyes. He looked hurt, like Pip had personally stabbed him by asking. "I mean, since you're here and all, I just always wanted to know."   
  
"You don't remember us," Christophe said pensively. "I thought you remembered." He sucked in a breath, before sliding the oxygen mask back on Pip's face. "You need that," he said as his fingers grazed Pip's cheeks. "I'll tell you, it's okay. Just lay there, dumb fucker."   
  
Pip did as he was told, trying to decode the pained laugh Christophe choked out. Was he upset or happy? Pip could sense it was an overwhelming feeling from the way he shifted his weight around his seat, but he didn't know if it was elation or depression. Maybe it was both.  
  
"You don't have a mom," Christophe finished his laugh. "You have two very fucked up dads and a sociopath brother. Half brother. He's the fucking worst. Damien exists just to torment me, I swear to Christ." Pip gulped, hurting himself in his rush to pull the mask away from his face as his stomach knotted. "I was a shitty dad, so he pays me back by being an asshole."   
  
"Damien?" Pip asked, pupils blown with fear. Surely lots of people were named Damien. Damien was eight years older than him, and Christophe didn't look that old.   
  
"Yeah, Damien," Christophe sneered a bit. "My sister gave him the whorehouse when her kid abandoned it. Made him even more of a monster. He's an Alpha and I guess that makes all that shit okay. We don't talk much."   
  
Pip instinctively put a hand over his stomach as Christophe once again put the oxygen on his face. He smiled sadly, tucking a lock of matted hair behind Pip's ear.   
  
"Sucks," he shrugged. "You can kill it, if you want. I thought I taught him to use fucking condoms, but I guess not. Fucking Alphas." Pip's heart sped up as Christophe studied his face. That option hadn't even crossed his mind. "You're just like me, huh? Can't do it. Can't imagine sitting there as another stranger shoves some shit inside you." Pip made a move to pull the damn mask from his face, so he could scream, or cry, or something, but Christophe caught his hand. "Just breathe. It's okay."   
  
"Who the hell are you?" Pip's eyes flicked up as Craig stormed into his room, a small brown bear in his arms. Tweek trailed behind him, looking up as Craig rushed to his bedside.   
  
"Christophe!" Tweek screamed, giddy with anticipation. Pip's bewilderment overshadowed his sadness as Tweek sprinted across the room, immediately tucking his nose in the crook of Christophe's neck, scenting him as he held him in place with both hands.   
  
"Hi, Richard," Christophe laughed, returning his affection. "Hey, that's enough. We're in public." He pressed into Tweek's neck and Pip could swear to God he heard Tweek purr. "I love you, too, but not now."   
  
"What the fuck?" Craig asked, going to the other side of Pip's bed. "Who are you?"   
  
"He's my uncle," Tweek chirped, sitting in the seat next to him. "My favorite uncle. We used to play games and watch movies, and Mom would leave us in charge of the shop and we'd eat cartons of icing. It was so much fun. I missed you." He leaned into him, rubbing the side of his face on Christophe's shirt. "I missed you so much. I wish you never ran away. I missed you."   
  
"Shhh," Christophe cooed as he stroked Tweek's hair. "Who is your friend? Tell me about him. He is handsome."   
  
"Craig," Tweek whined. "He's my mate. I missed you, man. He's a good mate. Nice, and he's hot," Tweek laughed like a schoolgirl. "I love him a whole lot."  
  
"That's good. It's good you love him," Christophe smiled as something fuzzy brushed against Pip's arm. He turned his head to see Craig, eyes narrowed as he watched Tweek, blindly placing the bear on Pip's bed.   
  
"You don't smell drunk," Tweek laughed, gripping Christophe's shirt with both hands. "I don't do that stuff anymore, either, man. I like not doing it. It feels better."   
  
"Good," Christophe smiled, placing a kiss on the top of his head. Pip shuddered as Craig let out a growl.   
  
"Why are you here?" Craig asked, arms crossed over his chest. "Are you harassing my friend? He doesn't need any extra shit from you. You can go."   
  
"Stay," Pip said, pulling his mask down. He hadn't meant to sound so desperate. "If you want."   
  
"You need to apologize," Craig chided, glaring at Tweek. "Apologize for what you did."   
  
"I'm sorry, Pip," Tweek rushed out, before resuming grooming Christophe's shirt. "I missed you a lot, man. You have no idea. I left, after you left, I didn't want to stay without you. I don't talk to them," Tweek grumbled. "I don't like them."   
  
"A real good citizen apology," Craig growled again, walking around to grab Tweek.   
  
"I'm sorry I threw you out at a tree and left you outside, and then lied to Craig." Tweek moved, ushering Craig into his spot. "You can scent him, if you want."   
  
"I am not your boyfriend's plaything," Christophe sighed. "You hurt Phillip? Why?"   
  
Pip wanted to scream that it was because he hated him, that Tweek had always hated him, but instead he froze beneath Tweek's touches.   
  
"He said I stink," Tweek said, rubbing his wrists over Pip's face, claiming him. Pip couldn't smell it through the mask, but he was certain that the minute he pulled it away, he'd reek. "And Craig likes him more than me, and that's not fair. Craig is my mate and should like me best. I shouldn't have to share my mate, it's not right. I don't like sitting by as someone else mounts my fucking mate, okay?" Tweek growled, looking back at Christophe.   
  
"I only had sex with him that one time," Craig shouted. "It was one fucking time, and you were doing it with me. Try fucking trusting me for two fucking seconds!"   
  
"Tweek, do you want a snack?" Christophe asked, fishing out his wallet. He held out a twenty dollar bill as bait to lure him away from Pip. "You can go to the cafeteria and get anything you want." Craig looked skeptically and Pip who tried to feign a smile.   
  
"Anything?" Tweek smiled. "Do you two want anything?" He asked looking between Christophe and Craig.   
  
"No," Craig said, his teeth grit.   
  
"Just find something for yourself, _mon lapin_ ," Christophe grinned as Tweek took the bill from his hand. Tweek placed a quick kiss on his lips while pressing on the scent glands in his neck.   
  
"Jesus fucking Christ," Craig groaned as Tweek broke apart, and did the same with Craig.  
  
Pip was grateful no one kissed him. Tweek didn't so much as look in his direction as he ran out of the room, money in his fist.   
  
"What the fuck is this?" Craig asked, looking at Christophe.   
  
"This is a hospital," Christophe smiled.  
  
"No. No, do not be an asshole," Craig growled. "You just kissed my fucking boyfriend after he said you were his uncle."   
  
"I did not kiss him," Christophe shrugged as Pip looked on in alarm. "Richard kissed me and we both know there is nothing anyone can do to control him."   
  
"Oh my God," Craig scoffed, looking at Christophe. "Did you mate with your nephew? What the fuck is wrong with you? What fucked up Alpha bullshit is this?"   
  
"You think I'm an Alpha?" Christophe snickered. "That's very sweet, but no." Craig leaned in hesitantly and inhaled.   
  
"How fucking old are you?" Craig demanded. "How much older than an Alpha do you have to be to convince him to fuck you as an Omega?"   
  
"Look, I didn't do anything," Christophe said, standing up and facing Craig with his shoulders square. "Maybe ask your fucking mate what he did. Ask Tweek about the time he picked the lock on my fucking door while I was in heat, and then come back to me about what I fucking did."   
  
"He did what?" Craig asked, shrinking back as Christophe grew redder. "Why are you even here?"   
  
"My roommate asked me to help. Something about an abused Omega living in a tent."   
  
"Craig didn't abuse me," Pip said, coughing as Tweek's scent flooded his senses. He mewled in pain as he coughed, jostling his whole body. "Craig's been really nice."   
  
"He kept you in a fucking tent, Phillip," Christophe snapped, pressing Pip's mask back into place.  
  
"I let him stay with us!" Craig roared. "It's not like I locked him in a tent alone. Sorry I don't have fucking 1200 dollars a month for a fucking room while supporting and feeding your fucking nephew. He doesn't need your help. What are you going to do, teach him how to whore himself out?"   
  
"He already knows how to do that," Christophe rolled his eyes, and judging by the flex of the muscles in his neck, Craig snapped.  
  
Pip couldn't jump up to step between them as Christophe punched Craig directly in the jaw. They tussled for a few moments, until Christophe was pinned against the wall, neck out for a mark. Pip listened to his heart pound in his throat, as Craig sniffed tentatively. He didn't want to watch someone take a forced bond, much less his supposed father.   
  
"Don't hurt him," Pip shouted, coughing again from Tweek's scent. "That's my dad. I think."   
  
Craig bristled, sniffing Christophe again before letting him go. Christophe grinned, straightening himself as Craig glowered at Pip.   
  
"I'm sorry. Don't be mad, I just," he wheezed, "I just didn't want you to mark him here. He already hates me," Pip squeezed his eyes shut as tears pricked at his eyelids. "It must be a family thing, since Tweek hates me, too."   
  
"Tweek doesn't hate you." Craig was lying. Pip could feel in his bones, especially the ones that were broken, that Tweek hated him.   
  
"He does," Christophe said. "You got us separated and he hates you." Pip fought against tears as Christophe spoke up again. "Don't give me that look. He hates him. He hates Phillip more than anyone in the world, besides his parents. He snuck into my room while I was having my heat, and he hates you for existing."  
  
"Stop fucking saying shit like that," Craig growled.  
  
"I didn't say I hate him," Christophe sneered. "I just told him the truth. You can ask Tweek. Ask him if he likes my youngest son. I fucking dare you to ask him, you pussy. Ask him about his kid."   
  
"Is Tweek my other dad?" Pip asked, feeling the blood drain from his face. He was going straight to hell. He had sex with two of his relatives. And neither of them even liked him. Craig was the person who liked him most in the room, and that was some strange sense of responsibility he had.  He felt it was his duty to rescue Pip from a bad situation because he was a young Omega.  
  
"Quick as a whip, this one," Christophe snickered. "It was worth having you ripped away from me so you could go to school, after all. It really paid off." Pip shuddered as Craig ran into the bathroom. "What a shit show."   
  
Craig returned quickly, a wad of wet paper towels in his hands as Pip sat in a daze. Gently, Craig scrubbed Tweek's scent off Pip's face, careful to wipe under his eyes and behind his ears. Once he was done, he pulled the mask out of place and shot Christophe a glare.   
  
"Thanks," Pip tried to smile at Craig. Craig deserved for him to at least smile. "And thanks for the bear." Pip grabbed it from his side, holding it to his face. He cracked a real smile when he realized Craig had scented the bear before giving it to him. "I really like it."   
  
"Pretty ballsy to be mated to a guy then court his kid, don't you think?" Christophe laughed, placing a hand on Pip's leg. "Alphas are like that. Alphas don't care about us." Pip held the bear to his nose again, trying not to listen. Craig wasn't courting him, he knew that. Craig was trying to give him a comfort item, out of guilt. There was no relationship outside of a soft-hearted Alpha feeling sorry for a fucked up Omega.  
  
"I got everyone a Coke," Tweek announced as the door swung open. Craig stepped away from Pip, standing against the wall as he eyed Christophe up and down. "And I've got lots of change. Do you want it back or can I keep it?"   
  
"Go ahead and keep it," Christophe laughed. "Thank you for the drink." Tweek placed a bottle of soda in Christophe's hands and in Craig's, then opened the one remaining bottle for himself. They all sipped quietly as Pip snuggled against his new bear.   
  
It was fine to be left out, Pip decided, scratching the bear behind the ears. He didn't think a soda would sit well, anyways. His bear was a better gift than Tweek remembering him as he went to go get snacks.  
  
"I don't want him to come back with us," Tweek said, curling up into Christophe's side. "I don't like how much he likes you. It makes me angry."   
  
"What do you want to do with him?" Pip could hear the anger in Craig's voice. "We need to be good citizens. Remember?"   
  
"Yeah, but we shouldn't have to take care of a whole stranger. I don't like him. I don't like sleeping next to him."   
  
"I told you," Christophe said flippantly, as Pip studied the bear. It was cute, brown fur, beady little eyes and a big red bow on his neck. "He's not a fan."   
  
"Tweek, come here," Craig said, more of an order than a request. Pip glanced up to see Tweek trudge across the room, reluctant to leave Christophe's side. "Do you know who that is?"   
  
"It's Pip," Tweek said, stating the obvious. "He sleeps in our tent, and he cries when we have sex with him.  If I can't even have sex with him, why should he get to stay? He has sex with you."   
  
"No, he doesn't." Craig said, teeth grinding into each other. Pip looked at Christophe who was watching with a cocky smirk. "I only had sex with Pip the time we had sex with him together."   
  
"And he didn't even like it," Tweek whined. "If he doesn't like us, why should we let him stay?"   
  
"Pip is pregnant," Craig whispered, as Christophe continued to giggle to himself.  
  
"So someone will take him away!" Tweek exclaimed. "That's perfect. It's perfect and we won't have to see him, because I don't like those places." Christophe burst into a hearty laugh, running both hands through his hair exasperated. "Damien will take him back, because he's pregnant. And he can go back to working there, and who ever mated him can be mad about it. Not us."   
  
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Craig asked, taking a few steps back.   
  
"Tweek, _mon amour_ , normal families don't send Omegas to brothels when they fall pregnant." Christophe was patient as he explained. "You shouldn't throw him into trees. Did your father throw you into trees? No, it is not good."   
  
In seconds, Tweek was at Pip's bedside, scenting him as he chewed his bottom lip. Craig hoovered behind him, hands out as if he was ready to grab him at any moment. Pip laid as still as he could as Tweek ran his hands up and down Pip's scent glands. Tweek looked almost remorseful.   
  
"Dad pushed me down the stairs," Tweek said, looking at Christophe. "And locked me in the basement. And made me work in his stupid fucking coffee shop and take drugs. I didn't give Pip drugs. I didn't do that to him."   
  
"Hey, shhh," Craig snaked his arms around Tweek's midsection, nuzzling into his neck. "You didn't do that. It's good you didn't."   
  
"He's Phillip and he ruined everythinh. Everything," Tweek crinkled his face. "I ruined everything first, but then he ruined it. Dad made me yell at the Omegas, and I didn't like it. I had to watch strangers touch my mate. It wasn't fair. He was so sad. Phillip ruined it. He just got happy and then Pip ruined it."   
  
"Hey, hey," Christophe cooed from the other side of the room. "I'm happy. Nothing is ruined. Nothing is ruined. Shush."   
  
"Mates?" Craig asked as Pip felt his stomach churn. "We're mates, Tweek. Me and you."   
  
"He was my mate," Tweek moaned, frowning at Pip. "I got him in trouble. I'm not a good mate. I'm just not good, man."   
  
Pip was prone to agree to that statement. He'd been kidnapped, tossed out of a tent, dropped on his ankle, and had two knots at a time, all because Tweek wasn't good. And it wasn't just that Tweek wasn't a good person, he was a dreadful father. This was not how he had imagined his dad.   
  
For starters, Tweek wasn't even British. He was obviously just an American, which might have been fine if he wasn't insane. But he was crazy, and sporadic in ways that got Pip injured. He didn't have an instant connection like happened in movies, where a separated family can parse each other out just be scent. He hadn't known Tweek Peter from Paul, and he'd instantly felt something with Christophe.   
  
But maybe that was just a sick sense of camaraderie. They were brothers in arms, so to speak, both used for sex against their will, and maybe he was just picking that up. Maybe Christophe had another blonde Phillip who was around his age, and there was just a mix up. He'd gotten confused by hope, just like how Pip was so swept away with the idea that his foster family loved him unconditionally.   
  
They hadn't, and this freak show unfolding before him obviously didn't include him.   
  
"He likes you better, and it's not fair," Tweek frowned, plucking the bear out of Pip's hands. "He doesn't scent things for me. I'm his boyfriend, and you're new and he likes you better. Man, it's just, man, it fucking sucks."   
  
"I have told you over and over, I like you. I like you best. If I didn't fucking like you, you'd be sleeping by yourself and digging in dumpsters for food," Craig looked at Pip, scrutinizing him as he pulled the bear away from Tweek and gave it back to Pip. "If this is such a problem, then, fuck," Craig let him go, running his hands over his temples, "I guess I can find Pip somewhere else to stay."   
  
"Really?" Pip watched in horror as Tweek's face lit up. There was no way this was his father. It wasn't possible for a parent to do this to their child, Pip didn't think. He bitterly thought to himself that he was keeping the bear as Tweek kissed Craig hard on the mouth.  
  
"Yeah, I mean, I'll figure something else. He obviously can't stay with us. There's got to be other people to take care of him, people who can do a better job than me. I'll call my friends."   
  
Pip didn't bother saying that Craig did a good job. Part of doing a good job in taking care of someone you wanted to help was not selling them out. A large part of helping was making sure that he was safe. Pip grazed his fingers over the call button by his bed, anger and despair bubbling up inside him.  
  
If he was going to throw a fit, it wasn't going to be in front of these people. It was going to be alone. He felt a grumble tickle the back of his throat as he hugged the bear, again.   
  
He slipped the mask up a bit, hesitantly holding the bear to his face. God, it was rancid. Or he was rancid. Maybe he was just smelling the stress hormones pouring off of his throat, and it had turned the whole bear into a nightmare. Or maybe it was Craig selling him out that made it stink so bad.   
  
"You can have it," Pip said, looking at Tweek with narrowed eyes. "If it's so important to you." Pip held the bear in the air as Craig set his jaw. Tweek greedily took it,  smiling as he ripped it from his fingers.

"I gave it to you," Craig said, words pointed as he watched Tweek hold the damned thing with both arms. "It was a gift."   
  
"And I gave it to him," Pip smiled, forcing his eyes to crinkle as the muscles froze in place. "It's a goodbye gift, I guess."   
  
"Bye," Tweek spat, examining the bear. He walked back toward Christophe, nuzzling into his side. "Can I have your phone number? Write it down, please? I miss you. Or, or Craig can you put it in your phone? Please?"   
  
"Of course," Christophe grinned. That was a look that Pip had never gotten from him, probably in his whole life.   
  
Craig begrugendly gave his phone to Tweek, holding it for a second too long, before leaning over Pip's bed. What was he going to try to do, apologize? Was he sorry he'd sold him out for a quite tent? Why didn't he kick Tweek out? Tweek didn't contribute anything to their relationship, not that Pip could see. He was just as much dead weight as he was, so why was he the anchor cut at sea?

"I'm going to see if I can find a friend with an empty couch. You have my phone number, call me if you need me," Craig said, careful to keep their bodies separated. In a moment of hateful anger, one he would probably look back on with disappointment, he laughed, turning his head away.   
  
"Next time I want someone to rob me, fuck me, hurt me, then kick me out, I'll give you a call." He hadn't expected a laugh from Christophe, but that's what he got. A fully belly laugh as Tweek placed a final kiss on his cheek, then wrapped himself around Craig.   
  
Neither one of them waved to him as they left. 

By the time the nurse answered his call light, Christophe was sitting in his seat, looking at whatever drivel was playing on the TV, occasionally grinning as his chest bounced. It was a crime show, so Pip didn't know what could possibly be funny. The nurse, a polite looking Beta male with blue scrubs asked what he wanted.  
  
He looked at Christophe, the way he'd curled up on himself, his chin resting on his knees and his arms around his shins. He almost looked like a kid. If Pip pretended that the last day of his life didn't happen, which he had full intention of doing, he'd think he was back in that awful group home. That maybe Christophe was just new, folding in on himself to save space on the floor for everyone else.   
  
Pip had always done that. It was good manners to be as small as possible in someone else's presence. It was polite, and it was proper to not talk while the show was going on, and to squash any laughter that may escape, just so whoever else was in the room could enjoy themselves, too. Only the Omegas, him and a few of the girls, had kept doing this after settling in. They curled in on themselves while gathered, just in case.   
  
No one wanted to be a bother.  
  
"Must have hit the button on mistake. Sorry." 


	17. Chapter 17

Having a catheter removed was painful. Pip didn't know why he didn't expect it to hurt, but he had been woefully under prepared for a stranger ripping a tube out of his penis.   
  
"At least it's done," Christophe said, breaking the silence that had hung between them since Tweek left. "I guess they want you to leave, huh?"   
  
"Yeah," Pip said, fumbling with his gown. Craig hadn't brought any of his things, not that he had much. His clothes were piled in a clear plastic bag, probably still damp from the rain. They were Craig's clothes. Maybe Pip would wash them and return them, and grab his bag and ID on his way out. Just so they were totally even.   
  
He didn't want any hold over in things he owed the two of them. Part of him hoped Craig wasn't even looking for a new place for him to stay. At least that way he wouldn't have to owe Craig yet again. If he was just sent out into the world in a gown and the grip bottom socks, then at least he wouldn't owe anyone anything.   
  
Except the hospital. He didn't even want to think about how much he owed them.   
  
"We need a new discharge plan," Gregory exclaimed as he burst through the door. "I'm not allowed to open my home to patients, apparently it's a fireable offense." He waved a paper in the air as he waltzed in. "Bunch of bullocks, really. What kind of fucking social work is it if I'm not allowed to help people? What's even the point of taking this blasted job?"   
  
"Paying your bills?" Christophe asked, arching an eyebrow as Gregory paced around the room, fists drumming into his legs, as if that could change the situation.  
  
"Do you have any ideas?" Gregory asked, looking between the two of them.  
  
"I can just leave," Pip offered as Gregory continued tapping out rhythm on his thighs.   
  
"Where are you going?" Gregory asked.   
  
"I have places." He did have places. There was nothing to stop him from slinking off underneath some bridge and deciding to live there. He knew it wasn't what Gregory meant, but it was fine. It was a white lie, like when Pip worked at the snow cone stand and would tell people he was doing great. No one wanted to hear anything other than the positive, so he fabricated something good. "It'll be fine."   
  
"If you had another place to stay, then you could have told me and saved me an hour." Gregory sighed, eyes narrowed.  
  
"Just give me the paper" Pip tried to smile. He'd memorized his old foster families address, because that was his forever home. What a crock that had been. Just like any chance of having a normal family that just accidentally lost him. No one accidentally looses a child, and Pip was dumb to even consider it as an option.   
  
"Who are you staying with?" Christophe said as the Gregory handed him the paper in a huff. He peered over his shoulder as he wrote the address down on the mostly blank document. "Who lives there?"   
  
"My foster family," Pip said, finishing out the zip code. He didn't know why Christophe even cared. If he was his dad, and Pip was still holding onto the last shreds of hope that it was all a huge misunderstanding, he hadn't stepped in when Tweek said all those nasty things to him, about him. Tweek admitted to tossing him into a tree and Christophe just responded with a gentle admonishment. "My real family," Pip spat, handing the paper back to Gregory.  
  
"I remember you telling me that wasn't an option," Gregory said, looking suspicious.  
  
"If they love you so much, why aren't they here?" Christophe asked. His arms wrapped around his chest as he smirked. Was he happy that his old family didn't care for him? Did he view it as some sort of contest to be the better parent in Pip's time of need? "I wouldn't leave a 17 year old alone in the hospital. And if I wouldn't do it, then it must be a real shitty thing to do."   
  
"I'm 18," Pip scoffed, starting to run out of breath. He hadn't spoken so much in days, and while he felt markedly better, he was certainly not well.   
  
"No, I remember," Christophe leaned back in his chair, resting his boots on the side of Pip's bed. He looked so cocky. Was he always like this? There was no situation that Pip could think of in his entire life when he seemed so smug. They couldn't be related. He'd imagined his dad as a kind but stern father figure, who was a tad bit forgetful.  
  
"I remember, too." Like Pip couldn't remember his own life.  
  
"I remember better than you," Christophe rolled his eyes, crossing his legs and shaking mud onto the sheets. The father he imagined wasn't messy, either. His mother wouldn't like that. She liked a clean house, just like he did. "I lived with you for five fucking years before my sister sent you to some boarding school."   
  
"Then I'm not your kid," Pip snapped. He knew how old he was. He was 18, and he never went to boarding school. "My mom sent me on an airplane to Denver and my dad forgot to pick me up. My birth certificate says I'm 18, so does my ID. I should know my own birthday." He'd never been so catty with an adult before, and rarely had he snapped at a peer in this way, either. Sometimes, after multiple attempts at hazing, he'd yell, or thrown something at the perpetrators head, but never to an adult.  
  
"You don't have a birth certificate. Like I had the goddamn willpower to trek across town on the bus with two kids to prove you fucking exist. The only time I got on the bus was the one time Damien pissed his pants in the 4th grade. I had to bring his dumb ass a new pair of pants. I paid bus fair three times because I was too drunk to find the school. I did not care enough to get you a goddamn birth certificate."  
  
"I'm sure your real son regrets that." Pip ground his molars together as Gregory continued to pace.   
  
"You told me they asked you to leave," Gregory said. "You have been my only patient to mention foster care all day. All month, actually. Are you lying now or were you lying then?"   
  
Pip could feel the tips of his ears heat up as Christophe whispered something to Gregory. He'd heard the word liar. Not that it mattered what Christophe thought of him.   
  
"I am not lying," Pip snapped. When Gregory stared him down, he sank back into himself, bunching his hands into the thin hospital blanket. "You asked me whose address it was, and it's my foster family. You needed an address, so I gave you one."   
  
"If you stopped wearing suppressants to work, you'd get less shit," Christophe laughed as Gregory groaned. "Omegas think they can smart off to a scentless Alpha."   
  
"So you just want to go back to the Alpha who threw you into a tree? You can just say that and stop wasting my time," Gregory ripped the paper out of his hands and stormed out of the room. "I can't make you want to have a better life. That's not my job. It was nice meeting you, Phillip."  
  
"Was it though?" Christophe asked as Gregory stalled in the doorway.   
  
"Mixing you and my professional life was a mistake," Gregory spat. "If you're coming home with me, meet me at the car at eight. I will be leaving promptly, so if you're not there, I will assume you've found an alternative."  
  
"God, I wonder how many patients make him do that? Do you think it's a lot?" Christophe asked, looking at Pip with a grin as the door slammed shut. Never before in his life had he made a social worker slam a door, not even after his first heat when the group home had to be put on emergency lock down.   
  
"Is this funny to you?" Pip pulled his bag of clothes into his lap. The smell of mildew briefly overpowered him.   
  
"Yeah," Christophe shrugged as Pip rose to his feet.   
  
God, it hurt to walk to the bathroom. He hadn't expected to get winded as fast as he did, nor had he thought that his chest would ache with every step he took. Christophe watched, still grinning as Pip closed the door to the bathroom.   
  
Catching sight of himself in the mirror was horrifying. He did not look like himself, not at all. Any man who looked at him, and assumed him to be his son must have been desperate. His hair was matted, probably beyond the point of saving, he assumed as he pulled at it. He grimaced as he leaned in closer, counting the rings of dirt around his neck. Once upon a time he had clear skin, but there were half a dozen pimples dotting his forehead.  
  
Even beneath the dirt, he looked pale. And skinny. He'd never been one to worry about his weight, but good God, he gasped as he removed his gown. There was his rib cage, one side purple and puffy, while the other was like a xylophone.   
  
On a positive note, he doubted any Alphas would hassle him in this state.   
  
He was going to use being disgusting as camouflage, he decided, as he redressed in clothes that were still damp. There was no way he smelled appetizing, or looked attractive. No Alpha would see him walking through town and attack him. He could find a place to sleep, and just rest for a while. Rest and be alone, he thought to himself as he slipped his pants over his socks. He was going to keep those; it wasn't like the hospital could reuse socks.  
  
"You aren't going to bathe?" Christophe cocked an eyebrow as Pip walked back into the room. He sat on the edge of the bed, regaining his strength as Christophe continued to look him up and down. "Where are your shoes?"   
  
"They weren't nice shoes, anyway," Pip said, trying to sound as flippant as Christophe. "It doesn't matter."   
  
"Where are you going?" Christophe looked at the TV. He didn't even seem to be listening to him. "What's your plan? You going to call your foster parents?" He snuck a look at Pip, then quickly looked away.   
  
"It doesn't matter," Pip repeated. He didn't want to think about how he didn't know where he was going.  
  
"Then it won't matter if I come with," Christophe didn't even bother to look at him. "If nothing matters, then this won't either."   
  
Pip paused. He was baiting him. He'd gone to public school, and had gone through this power trip enough times to know that nothing good would come from fighting. If Christophe wanted to wander around downtown Denver with him, then he could be his guest. He'd get bored, like all bullies, and then Pip would be free to figure things out from there.   
  
"Sounds great," Pip said, standing up. He guessed he was free to just leave, whenever. He'd already told the nurse he had no money, and she'd mentioned something about public insurance and mailing a bill. Maybe his old foster family would even pay it for him.   
  
He smiled at his own joke as he walked out of the room.  
  
"We walking to their house?" Christophe asked, pressing the button for the elevator. "It's not too hot in the evenings. I like a good walk."   
  
"We're walking," Pip said as the door dinged open.   
  
"Cool."   
  
They got all the way out of the hospital before anyone said another word. It was nice. It was almost like Pip was alone, and there was just a person walking to their own separate destination behind him. He imagined they were entirely separate entities going two separate directions, until the summer air hit Pip's face and he realized he was already out of breath.  
  
"Which way?" Pip didn't know. Surveyed the area, but all he could see was the hospital parking lot. "You want me to put it in my phone?"   
  
Pip recited the address, hoping that sometime before they got there that Christophe would lose interest. He seemed so bored by everything else about Pip's life, so why would he care all of a sudden about this detail.   
  
"It's only a three hour walk," Christophe studied his phone. "We could be there in an hour if we take a bus."   
  
"I left my wallet at home," Pip whispered. He hadn't meant to rasp on his words, but the more he stood, the harder it was to breathe.   
  
"Man, this is so much better the bed rest your doctor ordered," Christophe said, pointing to his left. "It's that way."  
  
They walked silently for what felt like an eternity, with Christophe navigating by pointing only. By the time it was dark, Pip had stepped in at least four puddles, and he could barely find the air. He pushed himself to keep walking until he caught sight of a bus stop. The right choice was to veer off the path, and sit down and catch his breath.   
  
Maybe if he took his time resting, Christophe would give up and go home.  
  
The bus stop had a roof, and if he shoved himself in the corner on the ground, he was fairly certain he could sleep upright, like his hospital bed. He wouldn't get rained on, and there wouldn't be any wind as the temperature dropped.   
  
"Find your wallet?" Christophe asked as Pip panted. "Don't think you can do another hour and a half?"   
  
What Pip wanted to say, was fuck off. He didn't end up speaking, for lack of stamina, as he tried to numb the ache in his chest. The doctor had told him to go get some Tylenol, to keep the swelling down. He'd said a laundry list of other things too, which Pip promptly forgot.. He knew he wasn't going to be able to do any of it, so it didn't seem to matter if he remembered.   
  
The neighborhood at least looked familiar. He was grateful for that much. If he was going to be homeless and outside, it was better to be in a part of town he knew, than a strange part. He saw a McDonald's he remembered, off a side street that seemed suspect, and a road that was eerily dark.  
  
He was by the camp.   
  
He rose to his feet, body aching, and resumed walking. Christophe followed, making a quick comment about how he was going the wrong way as he tailed him.   
  
It was fine, Pip thought to himself. Even if Craig and Tweek had kicked him out, there were other people, and maybe they'd let him stay. Bebe was out of the question, and so was Eric. He made a comment a week or so ago about how Craig had managed to ruin a perfectly good Omega. Even though it was unfair to leave all that at Craig's feet. Lots of people helped ruin him, it's not like Craig had a monopoly.   
  
He didn't want to stay with Kenny, either. He didn't even think Kenny still slept there. And he hadn't seen Stan in at least two weeks.  
  
There was the empty tent, the one that had been Tweek's. He could just sleep there. Tweek and Craig couldn't tell him he wasn't allowed. They'd just told him not to come back to their tent, and he wasn't. He was going to an unclaimed tent, and squatting.   
  
"Oh, we aren't going to your foster family?" Christophe asked. Pip knew he always knew the answer to that question. "You lied to a social worker. Pretty ballsy. I don't know if I'd have the guts to lie to a guy who was just trying to give me a place to sleep."   
  
Pip was fairly certain that Christophe would lie to anyone. Especially someone trying to help him. And he was charming enough to where someone might actually be able to successfully help him. His whole life hadn't been utter garbage. He didn't spend years of adults cycling in and out, promising that they'd fix things they had no control over.   
  
No social worker could make other humans like him. It was unkind to make Gregory try as long as he did. Selfish, even.   
  
"Is this one yours? It's really the stand out of the pack. Belongs on HGTV. They could make a whole special about all you've done with the place."   
  
Pip ducked into the tent, careful not to hit the pole that was holding up what seemed to be a dirty bed sheet and a tarp. He thought about Craig's conversation about Tweek and how he had felt sorry for him. As he knelt on the ground, he didn't see any pity from Christophe.   
  
Contempt, disgust, and maybe even revulsion, but no pity.   
  
He stretched himself out flat on his back, arms wrapped around himself. The mud beneath him was not nearly as comfortable as the adjustable bed he had last night, but it would work. The ache in his chest would subside, and he'd be able to sleep.   
  
"Oh yeah, this is way better than what Gregory would have found," Christophe said, taking his first steps inside. "Good job disobeying doctors orders to walk to a shitty, muddy tent. I'd leave you to it, but damn, I just can't imagine what the rest of your night is going to be like without any food or water or blankets."   
  
Miserable. His night was going to be miserable.  
  
"Were you just dying to get high?" Christophe asked, walking around the tent a bit. "Did Tweek throw you so you could get some drugs? Where are yours hidden? When is Tweek going to bring you whatever he has? Soon? And then the three of you will have some sort of tarp covered orgy before falling asleep?"   
  
"I get it, you hate me." Pip bit his lip. It wasn't worth explaining that there were no drugs.    
  
"I'd really like to meet the neighbors. See where you live, really get a feel for the area." Christophe feigned a smile before leaving. Pip could hear him shouting outside the other tents, asking to met people. He repeated himself four times before Pip forced himself off the ground to watch.  
  
He sat at the entrance to the tent, shivering in his shirt, as Craig's tent unzipped. In a maneuver that caused him a great deal of pain, he bent foward to see Tweek scenting Christophe before they both walked toward him. Craig followed lazily behind, looking annoyed.   
  
That bear was still in Tweek's arms, a bust from a hunt. Tweek had ruined his life and gotten a teddy for his troubles.  
  
"That's my tent," Tweek shouted, several yards away. "I didn't say you can sleep there. You can't, man. Craig said you weren't coming back, and you're back. You're not allowed to make him a liar."   
  
"Just leave him alone," Craig said, rolling his eyes. "I'll get his shit, and he won't talk to us anymore."    
  
"He has to give you back your clothes!" Tweek yelled at the back of Craig's head. "Those are yours and if he wants to be so awful, then he can get his own clothes."   
  
"I don't care about the clothes," Craig groaned, returning with Pip's backpack. He didn't even bother to walk it to him, he just tossed it, banging it against the roof. Pip locked eyes with Christophe as the whole ramshackle structure collapsed on him and the pole fell on his shoulder.   
  
After the shock of it, he realized it didn't any worse than his chest did. Maybe it was even a blessing, because now he had the bed sheet and tarp to use as blankets. It was fortunate the whole thing had fallen apart, really. He'd rather have a blanket than an awning.   
  
"I care!" Tweek whined like a petulant child. "Christophe, those are Craig's clothes. Make him give them back. Make him leave!"   
  
"He came here looking for his fix, so I doubt he's leaving without it," Christophe said as Pip snaked his arms through the shirt from the beneath the rubble. He slid the pants off, wincing in pain, and then threw them. Carefully, he manipulated the tarp around his body, just so he wouldn't be publicly nude. That was a crime, and he didn't really want to go to jail.   
  
Even if jail had a bed.   
  
"Dude, I don't know what you're talking about," Craig said. Pip watched through a gap in the fabric as Tweek snatched Craig's clothes off the floor.  
  
"He's talking about drugs," Tweek said. "Pip is a junkie and that's why he doesn't like him. Junkies are bad."   
  
"No. No, they're not," Craig looked at Bebe's empty tent. "And Pip's not on drugs."   
  
"If Christophe says he's on drugs, then he's on drugs!"   
  
Pip flinched as Craig grabbed the tarp. He didn't look down as he stepped over him, putting the stake back in the ground. In a few humiliating minutes, the tent was back up, and he was sitting in the nude, completely exposed. Craig fished through his backpack, pulling out the shorts they'd found him in and dropped them on the ground.  
  
"Wouldn't want you to think I was hurting you." Pip made brief eye contact as Craig bared his teeth. "Wouldn't want you to think I spent five weeks robbing, hurting, and raping you. That'd be a shame." Craig turned, his face unflinching and walked back toward his tent. "I have to be up at 4. Don't wake me."   
  
"Yeah! Don't wake Craig up!" Tweek shouted. "And I don't want to see your dick, man. You're not even cute. God! Just go away forever!" He leaned against Christophe, who squinted at Pip.   
  
His chest ached as he tried to get enough air. It hadn't hurt so bad a few minutes ago. Nothing had hurt this bad. He ran a hand over his face, embarrassed, and felt tears. He was sobbing, chest heaving as he gasped for air and cried. Instinctively, forced himself to move, to shove his face into the further corner and hide. They didn't need the satisfaction of watching him cry.   
  
"I forgot how mean you are," Christophe whistled through his teeth as Pip tried to get a hold of himself. Crying made his chest hurt, and his chest hurting made him cry. It was never going to stop. He was going to cry until he couldn't get any air and he suffocated. Death by crying. He might even make the evening news. Young pregnant Omega, Phillip Pirrup, cries himself to death beneath a tarp, more at eleven.   
  
And then when people looked him up on the internet, to get the whole story, they'd find the porn. And they'd feel better, because he obviously deserved it if he let that many Alphas touch him.    
  
"I hope a meteor hits him," Tweek shouted. "I hope it hits just him, and everyone else is fine, but he dies. I'd never have to see him again if he was dead, and you wouldn't either."   
  
"Then kill me," Pip sobbed. "Do it yourself."   
  
"No one is killing anyone," Christophe said. "I'll get him to go. Enjoy your evening."   
  
"I don't want you to go! Just him. You can stay with us! I want you to stay with us and for him to go."   
  
"He's hurt," Christophe said solemnly. Like he cared. Like anyone in this whole camp, or world, cared if he hurt himself.  
  
"So?" Tweek asked, as Pip made out the hum of a zipper over his crying. "Craig? Can Christophe stay? Make Pip leave, and Christophe stay."  
  
Pip tried to hold is breath, to see if maybe that would allow him to calm down. All of the thoughts about how awful he was, and how much everyone hated him swirled around his head. He never should have been mean to Craig, ever. Craig was the only person that liked him even a little bit, and he insulted him. He bit the one hand that had bothered to feed him.   
  
"Are you really going to let him have a fucking breakdown as I sleep?" Craig asked as Pip gasped. He held his breath too long, and he could feel his ribs pop as his lungs forced themselves full. "Fucking seriously?"   
  
"I just want him to go. I don't care who takes him, or if no one takes him. I want him to be far enough away that I can't hear him or see him. You said he couldn't stay with us. You promised."   
  
Pip forced himself to put those god forsaken shorts on as he continued to cry. With great effort, he forced his backpack onto his shoulders, and stood up. If they didn't want him here, then he'd leave. He'd go somewhere else. As he made his way toward the edge of the camp, he heard hoots and hollers from Tweek. Like it was homecoming, and his team had won.  
  
Tweek had won, Pip thought as he tried to suck the snot back into his nose. He was leaving because Tweek won. The large majority of the planet that seemed to hate him, managed to win, yet again. It was too cold not to have a shirt on in the woods at night, but he didn't seem to have a choice.   
  
Maybe in this wooded lot, there'd be a family of wolves. And maybe they'd accept him, at least for a bit. And he'd live with them in like a cave, or wherever wolves in Denver lived. And as an added bonus, when they turned on him, they'd kill him. There might be a small amount of toying with him before his execution, but it wouldn't be like this.   
  
When he was sure that he was out of earshot, he sat down on the ground, back against a tree. It was damp here, too.  
  
Perhaps the wolves wouldn't assimilate him, they'd just eat him. He felt a sob choke out of his mouth at the thought. It wasn't fair that Tweek got to have a mostly nice boyfriend while he waited to be devoured. It wasn't fair to him, and it wasn't fair to the baby he was supposed to raise and care about.   
  
God, what if he couldn't even do that? What if he messed up the very essence of his nature? Omegas took care of children, that was their job, and what if it was born and he didn't even care? What if he just let them slink off into the woods half naked and in tears? He probably would. If that was his real family, then he definitely would. It was a genetic problem that made him so unlikable.   
  
The baby might not even like him. If his parents weren't exceptions, then why would his kid be any different? They would be able to sense how little the world cared for him, and they'd know to write him off, to demand a better parent because that's what they deserved. They deserved someone good to raise them, and Pip couldn't offer that.   
  
There was a light shone in his direction, and Pip sprung to his feet, screaming in pain from the sudden movement. He couldn't see who, or what, was holding it, but his last remaining bit of survival instinct had him run as fast as he could, deeper into the woods.   
  
It wasn't very fast, but his chest burned anyway. He could feel himself being forced to take in more air, and his ribs, in turn, protesting. He ran for about a minute before he had to stop, and the light was still on him.  
  
All he'd done was hurt himself more, because he was an idiot. Maybe that's why no one liked him. It seemed like a rational reason to hate someone, because they were dumb. He let his forehead rest against the bark of a tree as he choked in pain. Crying fits were bad enough when he was well, let alone when he was injured.   
  
The light didn't come any closer, or get any brighter, so Pip sat down, leaning his head back as he rested. He knew better than to close his eyes, so he tried to make note of any landmarks, interesting trees, animals, preferably something helpful.  
  
It was startling when the light flicked off, but not quite as startling as the sound of footsteps. He hadn't been able to hear before, but as they got closer, he could hear them over his wailing. He stared at the dimly lit figure, trying to make out who had bothered to chase him. If it was Tweek, hopefully his death would be quick.  
  
Christophe's face was lit up by the phone as he looked down, then at Pip. They locked eyes, Christophe shifting his weight on his feet before turning away.  
  
"You're leaving?" Pip cried. "You followed me to leave?"   
  
Christophe typed something into the phone, knitting together his eyebrows. He wasn't even speaking to Pip. He'd come all this way, and he didn't even want to talk.   
  
"That's it?" Pip hiccuped. He was going to die alone in the woods, and Christophe had made himself known, just to leave him alone.   
  
Pip nibbed at the scent gland in his left wrist, the one covered by the tattoo, trying to calm himself. Maybe if he convinced his body he had a mate that was trying to mark him, he'd cheer up. He bit down as Christophe continued to walk, phone in hand. He tasted blood and dirt, and something foul that halfway resembled his scent. God, this is why no one wanted to mate him. It was awful. He couldn't imagine trying to have sex with someone, getting this taste in his mouth, and then continue having sex. 

He bit again, harder.   
  
It was more of the same. Disgusting, just like him. He kept biting. He bit while Christophe walked out of sight, and he continued to bite when the soft glow of the phone faded away.

He didn't know how long he spent chewing on his scent glands in the woods, but he traded arms every so often. It was cold, and the morning dew settling on his skin chilled him even further, but it didn't matter. It was hard for any of it to matter as he soothed himself. Pip had been taught never to bite his own scent glands, that it wasn't proper or becoming. The scent glands in his wrist were supposed to be for scent marking, not bond marks, and further more he was never supposed to bond with himself.  
  
He was crying louder than he thought, he realized as a bulky figure stood in front of him. He didn't hear anyone coming, but when he focused he could hear his own hiccuping mewls and sniffles. A hand wrapped itself all the way around his upper arm, yanking him to his feet. The figure pulled him through the forest, walking much faster than was comfortable as Pip continued to mark himself.   
  
"I fucking hate him," Pip could hear at the edge of the woods. "I fucking hate him and you brought him here! He's a bad person! He's bad! Evil! I don't want to talk to him!"   
  
"I did not call him," Christophe said as Pip was paraded through the tent city. Bebe was out of her tent, pretending to check her nails as she surveyed the scene, and Craig was sitting on the picnic table, head in his hands. Tweek and Christophe were arguing as Kenny slouched near Craig.   
  
"It's worse than when they found that body," Bebe said flippantly. Pip gasped for air, struggling slightly in the strangers grip. When he was walked by Craig and Kenny, he could hear them whispering, looking at him disapprovingly.   
  
"It's for the best. It's not like he can function on his own," Kenny hummed, patting Craig's back as Tweek screamed in the background. "It's good for them to be social. Have structure."   
  
"Nothing you say is going to make me feel better about it," Craig sighed.   
  
"Are they leaving?" Tweek screamed. Pip didn't look up to see the face of the person dragging him away. Curiosity was for people who didn't have stomach aches from crying and weren't lightheaded from lack of air. It was hard enough to walk at the set pace with his eyes cast down. He couldn't handle the whirl of the scenery.   
  
"He is taking me home," Christophe said. "No, do not fret," Christophe sounded sweet as he spoke and Pip nuzzled his nose into his wrist, even though he couldn't smell anything. "You have my number, and you can call me."   
  
Pip shut his eyes as they continued to walk out of camp. No one even said goodbye to him. He'd lived there for over a month, and he wasn't even worthy of a goodbye. Everyone always got a goodbye in the group home, even if they just stayed one evening. Even he got a goodbye.   
  
"Pick him up," Christophe's voice was sharp as the ground shifted underneath Pip's feet. They were on concrete, not dirt, he could tell by the sounds he could make out over his crying and the increase in pace. "I'll pick him up."   
  
Pip screamed as he was hoisted into the air, then went limp. What was he going to do to him? He already told him he was an inbred accident he hated, and Pip was already injured. Death felt welcome, so if Christophe was carrying him to a bridge to throw him off of it, good riddance.  
  
A car honked, and then Pip was sitting in a backseat, cool black leather sticking to his thighs as the door slammed shut.   
  
"Take him somewhere," Christophe ordered from the passenger seat. "Your choice. I'm giving him your coat. I'll buy you a new one."   
  
Pip flinched as a soft garment was dropped on his lap as the car started to move. The other person never replied, they just drove through town as Pip cried and hiccuped. Occasionally he'd whimper about how he was hurting, or rub his bloody wrists over his neck in a misguided effort for comfort.   
  
"Not here," Christophe scoffed as the car stopped. "We're not tossing him out at a goddamned Walgreens." The car door opened, and slammed shut as Pip braced himself for the cold. He bundled into the coat, draping it over his head in a sorry excuse for a nest. Even though it pained him, he curled up into the smallest ball he could, and stayed completely still.   
  
No one threw him outside.   
  
In fact, he was completely undisturbed until the door reopened and the car was in motion again.   
  
"Look at you," Christophe snorted as he riffled though a bag. "Gauze, juice, soup? Is that a chocolate bar? You bought him candy?" Christophe laughed. "I didn't think I raised you to be such a gentleman."   
  
"You hardly raised me at all."   
  
Pip shot up, gasping in pain as he saw Damien. He was in Damien's car going to wherever Damien wanted. He pulled at the car door, trying to force it open as they drove through Denver. It was locked and he was trapped. He went back to chewing his wrist, despite how raw it was, as he slumped over.   
  
"I appreciate you finding him. It looks bad to have tattooed Omegas in precarious situation," Damien said diplomatically. "But why were you with Tweek in the first place? What possessed you to be paling along in a homeless encampment?"   
  
"Gregory found him," Christophe shrugged, passing back a bottle of apple juice. He unscrewed the cap, like Pip was a child. "Both hands," Christophe chided as he grabbed it. He sipped, shaking in his seat as Christophe turned back around.  "Kid didn't sell you out, or anything. Took him a long time to admit anyone hurt him at all."   
  
"I told him he didn't know us; he took it to heart," Damien sighed. "It was foolish to think he'd reintegrate into society. He seemed so normal, always talking about college. I didn't think he'd starve to death, half nude." Pip kept his eyes lowered on the juice, watching it slosh around as they drove. Sometimes when they hit a bump, a bit would splash him in the face.  
  
"Why let him go at all?" Christophe asked.   
  
"No innate skill," Damien groaned. "Fine during a heat, but useless outside of them. Didn't cry, didn't fight, didn't enjoy himself; he just froze. He did better for me, but I don't need a personal whore." He paused as Pip gulped down his juice.  
  
"Most people call personal whores boyfriends," Christope laughed. Damien joined him for a moment.  
  
"I'm too far gone for one of those. I guess I beg the boss to hire him at the shop. I don't know. Maybe your impending lecture will point me in the right direction."   
  
"Nope," Christophe snorted. "I don't have the faintest fucking clue what to do with him. Don't tell her though, she fucking hates him. You're basically boned no matter what you do."   
  
"You could kill me," Pip squeaked, pulling the coat back over himself. He did not look up to meet either of their eyes. "Christophe hates me. So does Tweek. Everyone hates me, so it'd be a public service." Pip bit at his lip, waiting. "If my supposed parents can't like me, then no one can."   
  
"Here comes the fucking pity party," Christophe sighed, leaning his seat all the way back. Pip scrambled to hide in the floor boards beneath him, spilling the juice. He had a prickle of a memory of being told not to get Damien's car dirty while in heat, and burst into tears. Damien jerked the car to the side, then stopped. Pip could hear the steady rhythm of his emergency signals as he growled. 

"I made a mess," Pip whined. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He inched out from his hiding space to present the blank space on his neck in submission.  
  
"Parents?" Damien asked, looking down at Pip and then at Christophe. It was silent as Pip returned to hiding. "This is Phillip."   
  
"You knew his name," Christophe snapped. "You knew he was blonde. I thought you were taking all these blonde boys on purpose. Thought it was fucked up, but as a fucked up guy, I didn't think it was my business."   
  
"Are you saying I forced my little brother into prostitution?" Damien rumbled.  
  
"No," Christophe said, pulling his seat back up. "I'm saying you wanted to fuck your brother. It's different, slightly."   
  
"Gross. Just disgusting. He was the only fucking person in the whole fucking world I liked," Damien shouted as Pip forced himself back into his seat. The car shifted into gear, pressing him into the window as they continued to drive. "I would never purposely hurt my brother. I'm not Tweek."   
  
"Not saying you are," Christophe sighed. "I'm not saying that. You just feel guilty that you're brother bleeding fucking disaster in your backseat."   
  
"It's okay," Pip chanted as he rubbed his neck with his wrists. "I'm not hurt. It's okay."   
  
"Not hurt," Christophe said. "Tweek threw him at a tree, or something. I never fucking know with him."   
  
"Stop talking," Damien ordered. "Just let me think. God damnit."   
  
"God is obviously not watching us." Christophe held out a chocolate bar, tearing the corner of the wrapper off, and waved it at Pip.   
  
Greedily, he took it, unwrapping it and putting a square in his mouth. He expected sweetness, for it to melt on his tongue, but instead it was just cloying. He heaved as it slid down his throat, and hunched over, holding his hands out underneath his mouth.  
  
Apple juice poured out of his mouth and trickled through the gaps in his fingers and onto his lap. He could feel it run through down his legs and into the seat. Damien was going to be so mad. He'd ruined his car twice. He was going to send him back, or just dump him off in the woods. Pip's lungs felt like they couldn't get full, no matter how hard he tried to find the air. He just kept hyperventilating.   
  
"Shhh," Christophe hopped into the back seat, clearing the center console. "It's okay. You're okay." He grimaced as he placed a hand on Pip's neck, rubbing the scent glands gingerly. "Maybe don't cover yourself in blood next time you get sad." Pip leaned into the touch, nodding.   
  
"I'm sad," Pip bemoaned, sniffing to clear his nose. His brain was so muddied, that he couldn't think of what he wanted to tell him. "Why am I sad?"   
  
"It's a lot," Christophe rubbed a thumb under his eye. "It's a shitty situation and you're not used to how awful and fucked up the whole world is."   
  
"Oh stop," Damien rolled his eyes as he pulled into a parking space. "He knows everything is garbage. We hid as you fucked the revolving door of Alphas in our room. If that's him, he knows the world is asinine."   
  
"I don't want to talk about this," Christophe said, looking over Pip. He helped him out of the car, supporting his weight as he stood up. "He needs Tylenol."  
  
"He just vomited all over my car," Damien complained, pulling Pip toward the stairs by the hand. "I doubt that will fix it."   
  
"A fucking abortion will fix that."   
  
Without warning Damien pulled him into his arms, cradling him as they walked up the steps. Pip observed as he was carried through a hallway he'd been a few times before, when he thought they were dating. He had been so sure that Damien was his soulmate, and it turned out he was probably just his older brother. It was comical, almost.   
  
In his state, everything was almost everything else.   
  
"You're not sending him to the hotel," Christophe said. "I'll take him before I let you do that. I'll hate every minute of it, but I'll take him."   
  
"I would never," Damien turned to yell, twirling Pip in his arms. The sensation made him gag again, and despite his fear, Damien did not drop him to the ground when he vomited a second time. Christophe raised his eyebrows. "Not to my brother. Not if I knew."   
  
Cautiously, Pip scented him, pressing his nose into Damien's shirt. He fought down the initial jolt of fear, continuing to sniff, however cautiously. He inhaled a few times, letting the scent activate something primal and much less complicated. He sat up a bit, resting his head on Damien's shoulder, then lackadaisically bit Damien's scent gland.   
  
A happy Alpha meant a safe Omega, he thought as he licked at the wound. He'd make Damien happy, and he'd be safe. He smelled okay. The more he held his face in the crook of his neck, the more he enjoyed it.   
  
"What are you doing?" Damien asked, horror playing out on his face as Pip tried to rationalize what he did. He bit again, harder, then rubbed his wrists on Damien's face. "Serious?"   
  
"Phillip is Tweek," Christophe snorted as Damien unlocked the door. "It's always the younger one, isn't it?"


	18. Chapter 18

"Make him stop," Damien groaned as Pip ran his fingers over Damien's chest. He felt surprisingly solid. Pip didn't know what he expected every time he pressed his hands against the shirt, but it was always stable. He touched the plush couch they were sitting on, and that didn't have any give, either.  
  
He half expected to go through it, like a ghost.   
  
"How?" Christophe asked as Pip kept tapping. Maybe next time would be the time he evaporated, no? He kept trying, just in case.   
  
"I don't know," Damien grabbed Pip's wrist, causing him to flinch. The skin was inflamed, littered with teeth marks. Had he done that? Did he try to rip his scent glands out? He vaguely remembered sitting in the woods, alone, gnawing on his flesh, but it seemed like a dream. Everything felt as if he was just floating from one place to the next. Like a butterfly, or a jellyfish, or some other animal, Pip giggled.   
  
There sure were lots of animals.   
  
"Why is he doing this?" Damien asked, still holding his wrist aloft. It didn't hurt, not in the way it should have. "They are not supposed to bond to me."   
  
"Don't knock them up," Christophe suggested, before turning his back in the kitchen. "Pregnancy makes Omegas bizarre. One minute you're fine, the next you're crying, then you're dissociating in some Alpha's lap."   
  
"You dissociated in some Alpha's lap," Damien looked disgusted, mouth slightly open as he frowned. Pip traced his lips, then poked him in the nose with his free hand, before returning to resting. Damien's chest was surprisingly comfortable, not fat, but not bone either. And he smelled divine. Why did he smell so good? Pip could remember being afraid of that smell, terrified.   
  
"Well apparently it's not that different," Christophe clinked a spoon against a teacup as he walked across the room. Pip had only seen such nice cups on TV. When the white china was placed into his grip, he almost didn't know what to do. Did he hold the plate underneath it? None of his mugs had plates. None of his mugs had scrawling flowers along the rim, either.   
  
Come to think of it, he'd never had his own mug before.   
  
"You drink it," Christophe brought the cup upward. "Open your mouth," Pip did as he was told, and warm ginger tea slid down his throat. "Good."  
  
"I think he's bonding to me," Damien said as the tea cup was pulled from Pip. It really was a nice cup. Delicate, far too delicate for a cup, Pip thought. He'd be afraid to stir it, in case it'd shatter. "Stop it, bad. I'm not your fucking mate, pervert."  There was brief eye contact as Damien bared his teeth. Did all Alpha's have such sharp teeth? Or just Damien? Was it a family thing? Pip seemed to have sharp teeth, judging by the wounds at his wrists. He struggled to take a breath, and laid his head back on Damien's chest. "Make him stop."  
  
"Yeah, well I don't want him to start fucking crying and chew his hands off, so we're at an impasse." Christophe walked back to the sink as Pip sunk back into the couch, taking shallow breaths. "He needs a bath."   
  
"He's filthy," Damien agreed, inspecting Pip. He looked up, smiling as Damien grimaced again. Everyone was making such silly faces today. He made one in return, sticking out his tongue as he crossed his eyes. The younger kids at the group home had always really liked that, they'd squeal with laughter before peeling out of the room to play chase. "Bathe him."   
  
"He was your fuck up," Christophe glowered as Pip held his pose. He was starting to feel dizzy as he focused on the tip of his nose.  
  
"He was yours, first," Damien countered.   
  
"Christ, I hate you," Christophe said, pulling Pip off the couch. He mewled out a protest, pain shooting through his ribs, and followed.   
  
"I'm aware," Damien said, running his hands through his hair. Pip tried to copy him, retracting his tongue and letting his eyes readjust, but his fingers got caught. He tugged, finally freeing them as Christophe led him away.  
  
Wordlessly, he started the tub, testing the water with his wrist before unbuttoning Pip's shorts and removing them. Dutifully, he stepped out of them, and took Christophe's hand and eased into the water. It was strange to be naked with a near stranger. They'd spent a day together, hadn't they?   
  
Surely his dad had seen him naked before, Pip thought as a haze sank over him. Dad's bathed their children. Pip wasn't born with the ability to bathe himself.  
  
"Are you my real Dad?" Pip asked, mouth fuzzy. The water rushed around his toes while Christophe took a rag down his back.   
  
"Pretty sure," he replied, squeezing a dollop of soap onto a rag.   
  
"If Damien is your son, why are you so much nicer than him?" Pip asked. He curled his toes in the water, watching the water change colors. It was gross, but satisfying. "If we're brothers, why did he mate with me?"   
  
"Stupid thing," Christophe mumbled as Pip leaned into his touches. "You're not mates, he just fucked you." He paused, pulling his hand away to Pip's disappointment. "Maybe I'm wrong. I hope so."   
  
"I don't." Pip's back itched as the Christophe sloughed off the dirt. It was nice to just be touched.  
  
"You do," Christophe grinned, dunking the rag in the water before adding more soap and cleaning his face. "Your brain has turned off, it's okay. It happens to me sometimes, too. I've even seen it happen to Damien."   
  
"I don't have other parents," Pip said thoughtfully as he stared into the grey water. "I'd just have you. I want someone." That was honest, he decided. He wanted someone. He wanted to be in someone's neck , wrapped in their arms, protected and safe. "Damien doesn't like me. I'm bad at having sex," he giggled.   
  
"Damien is a fuckface." Christophe yanked the plug, let the water drain, the refilled the bath.   
  
"Damien is your son," Pip said, tilting his head back as the water rose again. "You loved someone and then you have a baby."  
  
"No," Christophe rubbed the ring of dirt at Pip's neck. "I did not love anyone. I had an accident, and I had a baby. Both times."   
  
"Oh," Pip bit his lip as soap was poured on his wrists. "Do you love Tweek?"  
  
"Tweek is my nephew." Christophe was gentle with the rag, careful not to press to hard on the bite marks. "I do not hate him. Love and in love are different."   
  
"That's not the same," Pip complained as Christophe placed a wet hand on his forehead.  
  
"You have a fever," he clucked his tongue. "You're just sick."   
  
"Do you love Damien?" Pip asked as he was pulled out of the water. Quickly, Christophe scrubbed his midsection while supporting him.   
  
"I love Damien." When he sat back in the water, Pip shivered. When did the water go cold? He hadn't noticed it before.   
  
"Do I love Damien?" Pip assumed he did. Everyone loved their first boyfriend, even if he couldn't remember anything about their time together. It must have just slipped his mind.  
  
"Doubt it." 

Christophe stepped away, leaving Pip alone for a few minutes.  The water was murky, once again. Had he been that dirty? Pip coudn't remember, but he assumed he must have. There was no other way to account for the filth clinging to the side of the tub. He ran his finger through it, then examined it. It sure looked like dirt.   
  
"Turn and put your head on the tub." Pip stuck his hand back in the water, quick to was the muck away. He hadn't done anything wrong by touching it, so why was he hiding, he wondered. He could have just had a dirty finger and that would have been it. Christophe hovered above him with a pair of red handled scissors.   
  
"Haircuts are special treats," Pip said, leaning back. A spark of pain ignited when he twisted the trunk of his body, but died down once he was still. "You must love me, too."   
  
"Because I'm cutting the rat's nest out of your hair? Please." The sound of two blades passing each other echoed in his ears as Christophe cut away the knots.   
  
"Yes," Pip smiled as cool shampoo was poured directly on his scalp. He'd only had his hair washed by another person twice. Once at a Great Clips, and the other was when one of the younger girls wanted to dye his hair with a packet of red Kool-Aid. It'd just made a mess, but Pip had relished in her nails digging into his scalp as she worked to get the powder off in the sink.   
  
He had a vague memory of an Omega doing it, but he couldn't place it. Maybe it was Christophe when he was a baby. Maybe Christophe had always washed his hair like this.

  
"Mother fucker," Christophe cursed, massaging his head. "This is basic shit. This isn't a display of love, it's doing the bare minimum." He cursed again as he dumped a cup over Pip's head. "You do shit like this for a dirty dog."  
  
"I've never had a dog," Pip whispered as water trickled down his face. "Are they nice?" He huffed, trying to concentrate. He could feel a nagging sensation that something was important and he wasn't paying enough attention. "Something's wrong."   
  
"Lots of shit is wrong," Christophe responded as one last cup of water doused his hair. "We can talk later. After you take your fucking medicine and sleep."   
  
"Are you sleeping with me?" Pip asked as his legs were scrubbed.  
  
"Do you have a goal to fuck every member in the family?" Christophe scowled as Pip screwed up his face. What had he done? "I'm not interested."   
  
Pip's lip quivered as the tub drained for the last time. It felt good to be clean, but he did not like being told no. Why was he suddenly resensitized to hearing no? He had heard variations of no his whole life, and grown used to it. People didn't like him. It wasn't surprising to be rejected, but it stung.   
  
"I don't want to sleep alone," Pip complained.  
  
"Are you in heat?" Christophe asked, pressing his hands into Pip's neck.  
  
"I don't feel hot." Pip wrapped up in a towel. "I don't want to be alone," Pip whined. "Please."   
  
"I think you need to go back to the hospital," Christophe said as he inspected Pip's wrist. "You fucked up your scent glands. No normal Omega acts like this."  There was a bloody gash where the tattoo on his left wrist had once been. It was all an open sore, and Pip couldn't understand why it didn't hurt more. Nothing hurt, but everything was hurting.   
  
"Stay with me," Pip said, though it came out like a question.   
  
"No, I was just going to send you out to the bus at three in the morning," Christophe scoffed. "Gregory is gonna be pissed when he has to redo your exit evaluation. I got five shitty messages from him about it, where he ran the whole gamut of guessing what the fuck was wrong with you to saying he was going to spend the night looking for resources. Fucking resources." 

He led Pip out of the room, and sat him at the kitchen table. Pip lowered his head onto the cool wood, rubbing his cheek into it. This was almost like scenting, he thought to himself. He was just scenting a tree. A dead tree.  
  
"This shit isn't normal," Christophe said. "Did he do this shit before?"   
  
"Pregame my table? No. Before his heat he was so shy that he would only scent me from a distance, like air kisses. It was ridiculous," Damien huffed as Christophe put a hand back on Pip's forehead. "He can't stay here. I can't stomach fucking my brother, it's bad enough he's pregnant."   
  
"I'm having a baby," Pip mumbled into the table. "I'm gonna be someone's dad." It didn't feel like a real statement. They were just words strung together that he started to repeat. He said it a few more times, chewing on the syllables and letting them languish in his mouth.   
  
"He can't have it," Damien said over Pip's chanting. "Terminate it, and we can forget this ever happened. I'll do whatever drugs the boss gives me to forget this shit."   
  
"I'm not making his choices for him," Christophe scoffed. "That's his job. Whatever he wants to happen is what's gonna happen."   
  
"My first child is not going to be with a goddamn family member," Damien simmered. Pip looked up as Damien bunched his hands into fists and Christophe looked on, unimpressed. Christophe should have been afraid, Pip thought as his face hit the table again. "I'm not like you. It's not acceptable for me to knot someone I share blood with."   
  
"Then ignore it. It's not hard to be an absent parent."   
  
"You would know, wouldn't you," Damien roared. Pip bunched the towel a little tighter around his body.   
  
"Oh yeah, this is totally the same," Christophe sneered. "You're a thirteen year old who hardly knows English taking care of a methed up nine year old, a new born, and running a coffee shop as your sister jetsets around the world. Our lives are so similar."   
  
"You should be grateful I even talk to you after the shit you pulled," Damien growled.  
  
"Oh? Should I?" Christophe asked.   
  
"I'm grateful," Pip interjected as he closed his eyes. He was always grateful. If you looked hard enough, there was always something to be grateful for. Right now he was feeling especially grateful for the table.   
  
"You should be grateful I don't kick you out of my condo," Damien spat. "You should be grateful that when you sent me a crisis text message, I drove out to the fucking woods and retrieved an Omega. You should be grateful that even after you neglected me, and drunkenly called me your biggest mistake, that I still fucking talk to you."   
  
"Are you suggesting you weren't a mistake?" Christophe asked. "Are you saying that me and the stranger who provided half of your shitty Alpha DNA were madly in love and planned you? Is that your argument? Because it's a weak one. You were such a disaster, that I had to move away from my home. Without a doubt, you were the worst thing to ever happen to me."   
  
"I am, what was it? Satan spawn sent from hell to terrorize you?" Damien huffed. Pip did not like this conversation, or the scents being put off behind him. Fire and dirt should have been a nice combination, like a campfire, or food, but instead it made him want to hurl. "Phillip was always the one you liked better, anyway."   
  
"He was the second biggest fuck up!" Christophe screamed. "I didn't like either of you! How the fuck could I? You were the reason I had to be in that goddamn coffee shop sixteen hours a day, and he was the reason I was thrown into a fucking brothel. I was so disgusting for being pregnant, that I had to be punished. I hated you both for a long time."   
  
"You still hate me."   
  
Pip inhaled as Damien stomped back to the couch. That was a sad smell, he decided. He stood up, scrambling to hold the towel in place, and walked toward Damien. He rubbed his wet hair into Damien's chest, then stumbled to the ground when he was shoved.   
  
"What the fuck?" Christophe asked as he rushed to pick Pip up the floor.  
  
"He's the favorite," Damien shrugged, putting his feet on the cushions. "You don't do that kind of shit for me.   
  
"No one shoves you to the fucking floor," Christophe spat, pulling Pip to his feet.   
  
"That hurt," Pip blinked, looking at Damien as the towel slid off his body. "You hurt me."   
  
"You always were a little narc," Damien shrugged. "I always warned you, he doesn't care, but it never stopped you from telling on me."   
  
"It's been twelve years!" Christophe wrapped the towel back around Pip. "Twelve years, Damien."   
  
"He left and you abandoned me," Damien folded in on himself, wrapping his arms around his chest and bending his knees. "Everyone fucking left. You have no idea. Even Tweek left. You didn't even think to take me."   
  
"No, I didn't," Christophe admitted. "Look, I've said it before, and I'm sure you'll make me say it again, but I'm sorry."   
  
"I forgive you," Pip automatically responded. He shivered again, and in an effort to warm himself, the towel fell to the ground.   
  
"He needs to go," Damien said, not moving from his spot on the couch. "I don't care where you take him, but I want to be alone."   
  
"You want to throw a tantrum," Christophe pulled out his phone, shaking his head. "Gregory is going to come get us." He held the receiver to his ear as it rang, and frowned on the fourth ring. "I hope." 

"Gregory," Damien growled. "I don't want him here, either." Christophe put a finger on his lips, and glared.   
  
"I need you to come get me," Christophe said into the phone. "I know, I know. It's late, but Pip needs a ride to the hospital. Yeah, again. Yes, he's really hurt. I know, I read your can't give another person the will to live text, just please." Christophe frowned as Pip rubbed his wrists over his neck again. The glands were too hard, like rocks. That wasn't how they used to feel, was it?   
  
"I'll send you the address, thanks. Thank you."   
  
Pip crawled toward Damien, freed his arms from his chest, and placed them on his neck. 

"I don't want to fucking touch you," Damien growled, shoving him away. "I'm not scenting you." Pip held his hands in place as he looked up wide eyed. He didn't want to be scented, he just wanted his neck fixed. When a slap cracked across his face, he yelped. Struggling to stay upright and catch his breath, he fell to the floor, connecting to the ground with a crack. "You're an idiot. No wonder no one wanted you."

"My neck is hard," Pip said, the pain he had forgotten now crystal clear. He didn't understand why he had to be slapped. He took a shaky breath, then exhaled slowly. It hadn't been that hard to breathe a few minutes ago.

"I'm not feeling anything on you," Damien said. "Hopefully I never see you again."

"Stop," Christophe knelt down. "Gregory is on his way."

"It's hard," Pip grabbed Christophe's hands, and pressed. "It hurts."

"You fucked up your glands," Christophe sighed, pulling away. "They'll fix it at the hospital."

"It hurts," Pip repeated. He looked up at Damien, who was watching, eyes narrowed as Christophe pulled him off the floor. "Can't breathe." Pip felt his stomach sink as he tried to inhale. He tried again when he couldn't get any air. After trying a third time, he dug his nails into Christophe's arm. He mouthed the world help and tried to scream, but just ended up coughing.

"You can breathe," Christophe said. "Just calm down."

Pip shook his head, trying to force air into his body. He could get a little, sure, but it wasn't enough. He couldn't breathe.

"If you weren't breathing then your chest wouldn't be moving," Christophe said. "I'm going to get your shorts, and we're going to leave."

Pip nodded, still convinced he wasn't getting any air. He stayed still as Christophe slid his shorts on, then draped the towel around his body.

"You're okay," Christophe cooed. He carried Pip out of the apartment without saying goodbye. Pip didn't think he was okay, not with how hard his scent glands were and how hard it was to breathe. This wasn't how okay felt. And judging by the concern in Christophe's eyes as he carefully took the stairs, he didn't think so either.

"You didn't tell me what happened."

Pip did not look to see the voice coming from outside his field of vision, but Christophe relaxed, lowering Pip slightly.

"I don't know. He just," Christophe sighed as a car door opened. "I don't know."

"We're going to the hospital?" The voice was Gregory, Pip decided as he struggled to breathe.

He rode in Christophe's lap for the entire drive, and Gregory didn't ask any questions. They were silent, save for the occasional coughing fit, until Pip was back in a room, once again on oxygen. He had been given strict orders by a nurse not to remove the mask as she listened to his chest.   
  
He didn't understand why he was being wheeled out of the room, or why he was getting a x-ray. No one told him what was happening when they placed an IV in his arm, or rolled him to his side. There were no explanations as Gregory and Christophe were led out of the room, and someone cut into his bruised ribs with a knife.   
  
It didn't hurt as bad as he thought it would. It hardly hurt at all. Maybe it had hurt, but it was quickly overshadowed by the odd sensation of someone shoving a tube into his wound, and then his sudden ability to breathe. He'd forgotten how nice it was to get a full breath. In and out, breathing as a room full of medical staff poked and prodded him.   
  
It was lovely. So lovely he didn't jump at the strangers pressing into his neck, or the man pouring antiseptic over his wrists. He just laid in bed, comfortably on his back, and focused on breathing.   
  
Breathe in, hold, breathe out.   
  
At some point, they changed his mask, shoving little tubes into his nose and hooking them behind his ears. He could talk, he supposed, but he didn't feel the urge. It was enough to just lay there and breathe.

"Did they give you pain medication?" Gregory asked. Pip turned, blinking slowly at the two men next to his bed. When did they get back?  
  
"Maybe?" Pip said slowly as Christophe laughed.   
  
"Let me look at the bag." Christophe did just as he said he would, and Pip turned to track him. "Diazepam. Lucky asshole."   
  
"Mmm?" Pip asked, feeling the roof of his mouth with his tongue. He had never noticed that there were ridge, little bumps to run over.  
  
"Yes, he's so lucky," Gregory snapped. "His unborn baby is especially lucky. We're all just lucky here."   
  
"Oh, please," Pip watched as Christophe ran a hand down Gregory's arm. "That baby is fucked, regardless."   
  
"Regardless," Pip echoed as he watched them. They sure touched a lot. This time Gregory pushed his hand away, but soon after their fingers were intertwined. "Are you mated?"   
  
"What?" Gregory pulled his hand away, sitting on it with a huff. "No, that's absurd. We are roommates."   
  
"You're holding hands," Pip observed, slurring his speech. "It's lovely. Hand holding is lovely."   
  
"It's for pussies," Christophe groaned, his hand still resting on Gregory's knee. "Are you a pussy, Phillip?"   
  
"I like hand holding." Pip mulled it over. "I'm an Omega, right? And I like hand holding. So, I dunno. I guess? Is it bad?"   
  
"No," Gregory stated, putting his hand back on his lap. Sure enough, they were holding hands again, but this time they were close enough for their shoulders to touch. "It's just a thing that is."   
  
"Ow." Pip tried to flex his fingers, but it hurt. Why was it hurting? He laughed, trying to do it again, then stopped, letting his hand rest on his stomach. "Can I hold hands?"   
  
"Not right now," Gregory said. He sounded nice. Pip smiled and looked at him half lidded.   
  
"You're the nicest Alpha I've ever met," Pip mused as Christophe broke into a fit of laughter. "I'm serious," Pip argued, though there was no real heat behind his words as his eyes sagged shut. "He's so nice."   
  
"He's a social worker," Christophe snickered. "Like there are mean social workers."   
  
"There are," Pip nodded as he rubbed against the pillow. It wasn't very soft, but he rubbed anyway. "Lots of them. And their offices stink."   
  
"Does your office stink?" Christophe asked, not bothering to contain his amusement.  
  
"I'd hope not," Gregory let out a short chuckle. "I'll take you there when you're well, okay? You can tell me."   
  
"I will," Pip mumbled. "I'll tell you the truth if you ask me."   
  
"That's like third base with him," Christophe giggled. "If he's letting you into his office, that's like sucking on his knot."   
  
"Aren't you doing that?" Pip turned, peaking through his eyelashes as they both grew red. "We can't both do it, right? You found the nice Alpha first."   
  
"This isn't an appropriate conversation," Gregory chided.  
  
"He likes you," Pip slurred. "I like you, too, but not like that. I don't want a knot. I want to hold hands. I want to hold hands with everyone." He grinned as two hands covered his, though he didn't open his eyes. He nodded, then mumbled a reassuring sound before falling asleep.


	19. Chapter 19

"Are you staying with me all day?"   
  
Pip sipped at the thick chocolate drink a man in blue scrubs had brought him. It wasn't particularly good, but he was hungry, he supposed.  He wondered if this was in place of his lunch. They'd given him breakfast, but the eggs had made his stomach turn, and Christophe, who had dutifully sat by his bedside, had removed them from the room.  
  
"You want me to go?" Christophe asked flicking through his phone. Pip could see a crack in the screen, but it didn't seem to phase him. He was looking at pictures of gardens, occasionally clicking on the rows of plants to get to a screen full of text. "I took the day off."   
  
"You took the day off?" Pip repeated. No one took the day off to stay with him, even when he had his first heat. When Christophe nodded with his face still buried in his phone, Pip scoffed. "Why?"   
  
"Because you're fucking sick," Christophe shrugged. "And it's not like anyone else is going to sit with you."   
  
Pip shifted in bed. He sucked in a breath though his mouth as he bumped the plastic tube coming from his ribs. They'd told him it was to help reinflate his lung, something about loose air getting stuck in his chest. They'd explained it was very serious. Everything was very serious when Pip woke up in the morning. His nutritional deficits were serious, his chest was serious, and the damage to his scent glands was serious.  
  
"But you could be somewhere else," Pip rationed once the pain subsided.   
  
"You want me to go?" Christophe asked again, looking up from his phone annoyed. "I'm sure I can find some other shit to do, if that's what you want."   
  
"No!" Pip interjected. Involuntarily he'd squeezed all the muscles in his stomach and he mewled out in pain. "I just don't," he sighed as Chistophe went back to scrolling, "never mind."   
  
"No, tell me what you want to say. Don't hold back. I'm sure you've got loads of nasty thoughts swirling around up there and you're just dying to tell me what you think about me. Go for it. I've heard it all before."  
  
"You're not at work because you're with me," Pip said softly. "I might not even be your kid, and you're going to get in trouble, right? And I don't know that it's worth getting in trouble over. I'm not worth losing your job. Especially if I'm not, you know, yours." He closed his eyes as the oxygen whirled into his nose. He knew what was coming. Christophe would say no, you're not, and walk out, and then he'd be all alone.   
  
He should have never brought it up.   
  
"One kid thinks he's the best shit since sliced bread, and the other thinks he's literal shit. Wonderful." Christophe groaned as Pip shrunk into his pillow. He waited to hear the creak of the chair, his footsteps, but instead he just heard the same tapping.   
  
"Do you think they'll let me go soon?" Pip asked. He snuck a look at Christophe who was on his phone, just as unfazed as before.   
  
"Nope," Christophe said with a bit of a laugh. Pip didn't know what was so funny about this situation. "Where are gonna go, anyway?"   
  
"I, I," Pip stammered. "I don't know."   
  
"They're not sending you half starved, wounded and pregnant into a shelter," Christophe snickered. "Maybe Gregory will find some resources." He murmured something about fucking resources before going quite again.   
  
"It's nice of you to sit with me," Pip offered. "Even if I'm not lively company."   
  
"You're lucky you're alive," Christophe retorted. "Enjoying those artificial hormones that keep you from flipping your shit?"    
  
"Huh?" Pip asked.   
  
"Oh, you were high as a fucking kite when they explained that," Christophe snorted. "That bag is full of Tylenol and the shit your scent glands should be putting out. It was full of Valium, but it's bad for the baby, or some nonsense. They're gonna try to save the one in your wrist, but it's not too good."   
  
"Oh dear, did I rip it out?" Pip blushed, looking at his wrists. They were both wrapped in white gauze, so he couldn't see what he did, but he could remember. He could also feel the dull ache and shooting pain with every moment.   
  
"Nah." Christophe clicked the phone off and shoved it in his pocket. "I'm going to get lunch."   
  
"Are you coming back?" Pip bit into his lip as Christophe flipped the TV on.   
  
"Yeah," he shrugged. "You want anything? I'm pretty sure you're allowed to eat extra food."   
  
"Um," Pip tried to think of something he liked to eat. Pickles sounded nice, but how would he repay him? "I don't have any money, so no thank you."   
  
"I didn't ask if you have money," Christophe groaned as he stretched up right. His back cracked as he looked back at Pip, bored.   
  
"Pickles? I mean, just one would be enough. Or if your food came with them, then you could give them to me. If you wanted," Pip forced a smile as Christophe shook his head. "You don't have to."   
  
"Is the medicine not working, or are you just like this?" Christophe asked as he left.  
  
Pip couldn't think of anything witty to say before he was out of sight. He couldn't think of anything to say at all. Was this just how he was? He didn't know exactly what he meant. Had he always liked pickles? He wasn't sure he had, but right now he really wanted them.   
  
Instead of trying to pick apart how long he'd liked pickles, he watched The Price is Right. The sound was too low and Christophe left the remote in his chair, so Pip just watched the number bids flash and women introduce prizes. They were giving away a golf cart, which seemed to specific. Did everyone need a golf cart?   
  
Maybe golfing was very popular, and he didn't notice because he didn't watch TV very often. There could be a whole crowd of people just dying to get their hands on a new golf cart, and he wouldn't even know it. He didn't know hardly anything he decided as a woman jumped up and down near a pyramid of dish soap.   
  
How could a parent with so little working knowledge be a person? He was already in the hospital, and it wasn't like he had a place to go after this. He'd apparently damaged his scent glands and was malnourished. How was he supposed to take care of a baby? How was he supposed to do anything?  
  
He couldn't go back with Craig, not after he insulted him, and Damien didn't want him. He winced as he brought his wrist to his mouth and pressed against the bandages with his teeth. Where was he going to live? He needed a job, too. Not once had he seen a pregnant Omega working in a shop. He didn't even have a bond mark.  
  
Babies couldn't sleep in tents. Babies were supposed to stay warm, he remembered from his Life Sciences class. Not too warm. They couldn't spend all day outside in the summer, but they couldn't handle the winter, either. They needed baths, and bottles had to be washed. Bottles had to be purchased, too. Pip gnawed at the bandages. He didn't even have money for pickles, much less baby things. And if no one wanted to hire a single pregnant Omega, what was he going to do?   
  
He couldn't have a baby. He wasn't a fit parent. How was he supposed to be a single parent without any money or housing?   
  
They'd take the baby and put them in foster care, Pip gulped, tearing off the gauze. And then the same stuff would happen to them that happened to him. They'd be miserable in the hospital at eighteen realizing they couldn't care for their child, except Pip probably wouldn't recognize their scent. So they'd be alone.   
  
Maybe they wouldn't even make it to the hospital and they'd just die in the woods.  
  
"Phillip, it's time to stop," a nurse said, pulling his arm away from his mouth. "I'll have the doctor give you another PRN." She clicked her tongue as she waltzed toward a cart covered in medical supplies.   
  
"Were you crying?" Christophe asked, sitting back in his seat with a sandwich. Pip hadn't seen him come in, he thought as a nurse gently cleaned off his wrist. "You keep trying to chew your hand off like a trapped dog. You can't do that every time you're left alone for twenty minutes."  
  
"Are you experiencing some anxiety?" The nurse asked as she wrapped the gaze. "Can you tell me on a scale of one to ten how anxious you feel?"   
  
"Yes," Pip said, letting out a shaky breath. How was he supposed to tell her on a scale? What was anxiety level ten like? It could always be worse, right? How could he tell if this was the worst that things could be. "I don't know."   
  
"Okay," the nurse cooed, patting his wrist once before placing his hand at his side. "I'll have the doctor come talk to you about it. Anxiety isn't helpful."   
  
Pip nodded as he tried to hold a smile. He could tell that his face wasn't cooperating. Christophe snickered as the nurse walked out of the room.  
  
"You're a pregnant teenager with a punctured lung, broken ribs, and fucked up scent glands. Of course you're fucking anxious." Christophe dropped a sleek green package onto the bed's tray with a half laugh. "Anxiety isn't helpful. Bitch, you aren't either."   
  
"That's mean," Pip said, looking at what Christophe had dropped. He picked it up, turning over the package of pickle chips in his better hand.   
  
"It's true," Christophe shrugged taking the pickles from Pip. Was he changing his mind on giving them to him? Pip bit his lip at the implications. "Don't you dare cry over pickles. I'm just gonna fucking open it so you're not dunking your bandaged hands in acid."   
  
"Sorry," Pip sniffed. Carefully, Gregory spread a napkin onto the tray, then parsed out pickles until the bag was empty.  
  
"God, being pregnant is balls," Christophe sighed. "The fucking worst. It's a cruel joke from God, really."   
  
"I don't like it," Pip admitted, mouth full of pickle. "I like these," he clarified, spitting onto his gown accidentally.   
  
"Good," Christophe took another bite of his sandwich as he spoke. "The pickles are good. The rest of it's bullshit. Try not to cry about bullshit."   
  
Pip took another bite as Christophe turned the volume up on the TV. Pip finished his pickles, and then picked at most of a tray of food, save for the sliced roast beef from his sandwich. Christophe scavenged it, sloppily shoving the meat into his mouth. It was disgusting, in an endearing sort of way, Pip decided as he took bites from his fruit cup.  
  
By the time the doctor got to him to check on his anxiety, he was fine, mostly. Sure the ever churning pit in his stomach was there as he sipped his juice, but it wasn't quite so nagging. The man decided against giving him more medication, for safety reasons. Pip nodded, as the doctor encouraged him to keep eating, then left. 

He and Christophe watched four more game shows in near silence, with hospital staff ducking in and out, before either one of them spoke. It was comfortable, Pip decided. Just being quiet in the presence another person was comforting.

"You wanna talk about it?" Christophe asked as a commercial for orange juice played.

"No."  
  
"Sounds good."


	20. Chapter 20

No one had ever cared so much about him, Pip was sure of it.   
  
Christophe was sleeping in his chair, bent over on himself as Pip watched TV. It'd been two weeks, and Christophe was a near permanent fixture. Sometimes he'd leave for a few hours, mumbling about work, but he'd be back before Pip was asleep, stinking of dirt and leaves. He showered in Pip's bathroom.   
  
He was so ever present that the nurses had taken to smiling at him sympathetically, sitting in his place while he ran to the cafeteria and urging him to go home for a goodnight's sleep.

He never did.

  
On day four, right after Christophe's first sustained break, he'd brought in a cotton swab and a plastic baggie, and wiped the inside of Pip's mouth. Pip had prepared himself for the letdown, for the test to come back negative and for his life alone in the hospital to resume.   
  
It'd been ten days since and Pip didn't know how to bring it up.  
  
"Morning," Christophe grumbled. "You hurt?"   
  
"No," Pip whispered. He felt much better, really. The tube was out of his side, his wrist was mostly healed, and it didn't ache quite as badly to take in a full breath. He knew it was almost time to leave, and he didn't have the slightest inkling of where he was going to go.   
  
"Stop that," Christophe grunted. Bashfully Pip pulled his hand away from his mouth. "What's wrong?"   
  
"I think they're going to let me go," Pip sighed shifting to his side. Lying on his side meant facing away from Christophe, but if he found it rude, he didn't say anything.   
  
"That's good, this place is boring as fuck," Christophe huffed.   
  
"Yeah," Pip agreed, hesitating as he spoke. He liked boring. Boring was safe. School and his old home had been boring, but he'd always had a full belly and no one got annoyed and threw him.   
  
"Have you thought about," Christophe paused as Pip sighed. They'd taken him off of oxygen yesterday, and while it was nice to have his nose back, it was strange to have to go through the effort of breathing.  
  
"I think a lot," Pip offered. "So whatever it is, maybe. Probably. There's not much else to do beside think."   
  
"Quality American television," Christophe snorted before the room fell quiet again.   
  
They weren't particularly good at talking to each other. Pip put that as one notch in the not his real dad column, though his watchful guard as he lay in bed seemed like a parent from a movie. Movie parents stayed in the hospital with their children, even if they were adults. Even if they didn't have much to talk about.   
  
"I will pay for you to have this taken care of," Christophe said.   
  
"Hmm?" Pip yawned, turning back to see Christophe staring at his hands.   
  
"I'll make the appointment." Christophe kept his head down as he spoke. "We can even go home after and eat ice cream and cry. Whatever faggy thing you want, okay?"   
  
"What are you talking about? Where's home?" It dawned on him before he'd shut his mouth what Christophe was offering.   
  
"Obviously, my apartment," Christophe said, like he was describing the color of the sky. "You're coming home with me."   
  
"I am?" Pip asked as he placed a hand on his stomach. "Is it, like," he felt the small bump that was forming, "like a trade?"   
  
"No," Christophe enunciated his words clearly, "not connected."  
  
"So I'm just staying with you?"  
  
"Where the fuck did you think you were staying?" Christophe asked. "Did you think you were going to crawl into bed with Damien?"  
  
"No," Pip blushed. He did not particularly like Damien, even if it did turn out they were in fact brothers. He wasn't sure if being brothers would make his dislike more intense or less intense, but he was certainly not a fan.  
  
"Fuck," Christophe laughed. "You honest to God thought I was going to toss my kid into the streets?"   
  
"Maybe," Pip stammered. "I mean, I might not be, so, why bother?"   
  
"Why bother with anything?" Christophe stood up, grabbing Pip's arm and forcefully pulling to from his mouth. "I slept in a shitty chair for fourteen days, because I care. I am trying to be a good parent, so shut the fuck up about being a bother. God, if it's not you, it's Damien being a dick hole."   
  
"Sorry," Pip squeaked.   
  
"Don't be sorry," Christophe snapped, "just be better."   
  
"Okay," Pip whispered. "I'll try."   
  
The sat in a very tense silence for a few minutes, with Pip's hands on his abdomen and Christophe hovering over him. He ran his thumb back and forth over the gown, thinking about Christophe's offer. He could just not have a baby. A baby he didn't have couldn't go to foster care. Nothing bad could happen to a child who didn't exist.  
  
"You don't have to," Christophe's chair squeaked as he sat down. "It's just an option, and I'll be supportive, or whatever. I'll do my best and Gregory will inevitably do a better job, anyway." He cleared his throat, as Pip held his stomach tighter. "With whatever. I'll be supportive with whatever. I obviously don't have room to talk or give fucking parenting advice, so I'll be shit for help, I'm sure."   
  
Pip nodded, wrapping both arms around himself. He didn't think he was going to do a good job, either.  
  
"Or," Christophe sighed, "you can wait, see a couple scans to see if the damn thing is even viable, and go from there. I don't know how big a deal having a baby with your half brother is, given your situation." Christophe was quiet when he talked, loud enough to be drowned out by the ambient noise of the hospital for anyone outside the room. "I'm sure as hell not going to ask a doctor, and I doubt you want to either. But there's no use getting attached to something that's never going to live, you know?"   
  
"Yeah," Pip agreed. "I'll try not to get attached?"   
  
"Fuck," Christophe hissed out a breath, "that sounds like shitty advice, too. You can just, I don't know. Gregory will talk with you, at home, if you want. He's getting his masters in social work, so I'm sure getting to deal with someone's intense bullshit would make him cum his pants. It makes me want to vomit."   
  
"You're not bad at it," Pip offered. "No one else came and sat in my room while I was in the hospital. You even slept here."  
  
"I let my sister take you and send you to fucking boarding school, which apparently was a lie. And I bought into all her bullshit about how much better it would be for you. Because how could I raise a child in my position? And she was right. I did a shitty job and we lived in one room in that fucked up hotel, and Damien did everything for you. I got drunk and had sex with strangers, and you and Damien did God knows what."   
  
Pip didn't know what to say. Did he lie and say, no, Christophe did a great job, when even just judging by his description, he had not? He ran his fingers over the edge of his breakfast tray, letting them catch on the small snags in the plastic.   
  
"Gregory is going to do most of the heavy lifting, because Gregory has always done the heavy lifting. Gregory fucking cares about shit, and I," he huffed as Pip pulled his hand back into his lap, "I just fuck shit up. Gregory helped me start my business. Gregory got me to stop drinking. Gregory got me to talk about this stupid fucking tattoo. It's just Gregory doing things and me going along for a free ride."    
  
"It sounds like he really loves you." To Pip that sounded a lot like an Alpha from one of the romance novels he'd check out from the library. Caring, compassionate, knew when to put his foot down but didn't overstep his bounds. Helpful and caring, but not overbearing. Pip could tell by the way they held hands and bumped against each other as they ate dinner in his room.   
  
"Nope," Christophe grumbled, chair squeaking again. "I don't know why the hell he keeps me around, but it sure as fuck ain't love. He doesn't suppress his ruts because he just loves me so much, he does it because he doesn't want to accidentally pork his whore roommate."   
  
"I thought he did it for work," Pip yawned pushing the bed tray away. The smell of the milk was beginning to make his stomach turn. Last time he'd vomited it splashed back into his choppy hair, and Christophe had to help him wash it out. It was humiliating, even if he hadn't brought it up since.   
  
"I don't know why he does it," Christophe frowned. "I don't know why he does anything. He wants to open a fucking shelter; wants my help with it. Like I know fuck all about shelters. Like I give two shits about battered Omegas, whatever that means. He's quitting this shitty job to move you into our two bedroom apartment. He cares about everything, and I don't give a fuck."   
  
"He's quitting his job?" Pip asked. Why would a stranger quit his job, for him of all people?  
  
"Yep," Christophe said with a shrug. "Boss wouldn't let him take you home, so he called him an oppressor and some other bullshit, then put in his two weeks."   
  
"He hasn't even spoke to me." Pip's eyes were wide as Christophe blew it off like it didn't even matter.   
  
"He wants to the world to be sunshine and rainbows. And when he sees anything unpleasant, he tries to fix it. We have a bag of cat food in our apartment, but we don't have a cat. He bought it for the one that sleeps by the dog park, just in case the damn thing was hungry. He feeds it every goddamn night, even if it's one in the morning. Can't forget the damn cat." Christophe let out a harsh laugh, "he doesn't even like cats. He thinks they stink, but God forbid one be hungry."   
  
Pip couldn't help think that was terribly romantic. He wondered if Christophe felt the same, but asking was a mistake Pip wasn't willing to make.  
  
"Great first steps in a father son relationship. It's exactly like the hundred articles he sent me. Just in walk in the goddamn park."  


	21. Chapter 21

"You drive a truck?" Pip asked looking at the rusted white Ford in front of him. It's lights flashed as Christophe toggled the key fob in his hand.

"Yeah, it's falling apart, but I drive a truck," he laughed. "The trailer full of landscaping shit is at the storage unit. Makes the thing a real bitch to steer."

Pip nodded like he understood. He didn't want to tell Christophe he'd never drove before; not today. He'd memorized the guilt lines in his face when he talked about all the ways he'd failed him, and Pip didn't want to add any fuel to that fire. Not while wearing he pulled at the oversize t-shirt Christophe had lent him.

"You think you can climb up yourself? It's not that high up, but I don't want you to fall."

"I think so," Pip shakily pulled himself into the front seat, relishing in how high of the ground he was. It was like being able to see out the front window of a bus, even if he was just looking through the hospital parking garage.

"You need to stop and get anything?" Christophe asked as he cranked the engine a few times. It spluttered and failed twice before starting. "I've got food and shit at home. We're gonna stop at the pharmacy and drop your antibiotics off. Fucking Tylenol fours," Christophe laughed. Pip didn't know what made medicine so funny, but he chuckled along.

The drive was silent, up until the drive through window of the pharmacy where the man behind the counter politely told them to come back in two hours. They left without even bothering to get out.

Though he didn't say it, he was grateful. It hurt bad enough just to hold himself upright, and he was exhausted from the ten minute walk from the front of the hospital to the truck. Pip didn't think he was capable of waiting in a CVS for two hours.

They didn't speak as Christophe parked the car, they just walked towards the large brick buildings, hand in hand. Holding hands was one of Pip's favorite things in the universe, and he didn't know how Christophe intrinsically knew that. Had he always loved to have his hand held? Did Christophe like holding hands, too?

He must have, because their sweaty hands clung to each other even as the front door looking into the courtyard was unlocked. A rush of AC hit him as Christophe gently pulled him inside. The front room was a nice beige, a midsize TV on an oak table, with a brown leather couch. It looked like a living room from a sitcom. Not a sitcom about rich people, but certainly one about a middle class family.

Except there weren't any framed pictures. None of Gregory's family hung on the walls, and nothing of Christophe's either. Were all of Gregory's family ties scorched earth, too?  
  
"We're home," Christophe announced, kicking off his boots, aiming them at a dirty spot at the wall. They hit with a clatter, and a figure at a desk Pip hadn't noticed perked up.   
  
"Do you really have to do that every time?" Gregory asked as Pip slipped the sandals that were a size too big off his feet. "Oh good, Philip is here."   
  
"Told you," Christophe snorted, hitting Pip on the shoulder, "he's got half a knot in his pants just thinking about talking with you."   
  
"I have no such thing!" Gregory turned red. "I have no intention of a sexual relationship with your son. The poor boy has been abused and you're talking about Alpha knots?"   
  
"All Omegas get abused," Christophe shrugged. "There isn't a point in changing your whole life to pretend that you're not just gonna get raped by an Alpha that's bigger and stronger than you. If you wanted to fuck Pip, then you'd be able to, and there's not a thing he could do to stop you."   
  
"Dear Lord," Gregory gasped as Pip looked down at the floor in horror. Gregory was taller than him, and he was injured. Had this been a trick? Had Christophe dragged him here as a gift to Gregory? "You're going to give the boy a panic attack."   
  
"Well, it's the truth," Christophe shrugged taking a swig from a half gallon on milk. "He knows it's true. We all know it."   
  
"I'm not having sex with you," Gregory said slowly, creeping across the room toward Pip. "I just thought you might want to talk, about everything."  
  
"God, I'd rather just be pounded into a mattress by a fucking group." Gregory shot Christophe a glare as he just shrugged. "Look, for what it's worth, unless Gregory has secretly been a pedophile for twelve years, instead of just an asexual asshole, he's probably not interested. He walked right by me while I was in heat, like I didn't even exist."   
  
"We can talk another time, okay champ?" Gregory framed it as a question, even though it seemed like an order. "If you want someone a bit more level headed to talk to, I'm here."   
  
"Or, we can just never talk about it." Christophe slammed the fridge before walking across the room and grabbing Pip's hand. "He's not going to touch you,," Christophe whispered. "I think he's gay."  
  
"No, I'm just not a rapist."   
  
"You're an Alpha, aren't you?" Christophe asked before taking Pip to his room.   
  
"Maybe later?" Pip asked, looking at Gregory with a shaky smile. "If you don't, just don't touch me please."  
  
"I would never do anything you're uncomfortable with."   
  
"I hope you're comfortable listening to fucking podcasts in the living room. It's like a documentary but without the video," Christophe grinned showing his crooked teeth. Did they have the same teeth? Pip ran his tongue over his, and decided that they probably did. Were Tweek's teeth messed up, too? Was it a family thing?   
  
"You're gonna sleep on my bed," Christophe said with a nod as he pushed the door open. "I'm going to get an air mattress and stick it in the living room, so I can listen to Gregory sing as he makes his morning tea." Christophe chuckled as Pip chewed his bottom lip. This wasn't his room. He was kicking him out of his own room, just for a place to sleep. "I kind of like it, so don't look so pissy about it."   
  
Pip surveyed the room, looking at the plush king bed with two solid wood nightstands each with a lamp. It was nice. It was too nice for him with satiny black curtains and a blue and brown quilt. Pip never in his life had four pillows, let alone throw pillows.   
  
"Are you rich?" Pip asked, standing in the doorway.  
  
"No," Christophe snorted. "I mean I'm not broke, but rich people don't share two bedroom apartments."   
  
He should have realized that.  
  
"It's just nice," Pip stammered, as Christophe pulled open a chest of drawers. Pip's clothes were always hung in the closet or folded in big plastic drawers. "It looks like a TV house." He gawked at the TV on top of the dresser. There was a TV in the living room, Pip was pretty certain. Two TVs? Did everyone have their own TV?  
  
"Hah," Christophe snorted. "Like when they show the inside of a house on Cops?"   
  
"Cops?" Pip asked, looking at the bed. "Your bed frame is wood. It's nice."   
  
"Where the fuck did you live?"   
  
"Group homes," Pip smiled, looking at the carved balls on top of each poster. "And I had a foster family," he grimaced as Christophe turned down the bed, "I didn't call them Mom and Dad or anything like that. I sort of wanted to, but they weren't my parents. Not really. I mean, I thought they were, but I was stupid." He didn't add that in his thoughts they were always Mom and Dad, nor did he mention the dinner where he accidentally called her Mom and the whole family just went silent.   
  
"You're not stupid," Gregory shouted from his desk, causing Pip to jump. "Don't call yourself stupid."   
  
"O-okay," Pip nodded as Christophe laughed.  
  
"Negative self talk is unproductive," Gregory added.   
  
"He did the same shit to me when we moved in together," Christophe whispered. "You'll stop doing it before he gives up."   
  
"It's a very nice bedroom," Pip repeated.   
  
"Just say thank you," Gregory said. He was close enough that Pip could hear his breathing.  
  
"Thanks," Christophe said as he shook his head and rolled his eyes. "You look uncharacteristically exhausted for a guy who I know has spent at least 18 hours asleep."   
  
"I'm fine," Pip said shifting his weight on his feet. He was mostly fine, despite the weakness in his legs, the ache in his wrist, and the tightness in his chest.   
  
"Fine is usually a lie," Gregory chimed in, before Pip twisted his body to look at him. Pip winced in pain as he studied the grin on Christophe's face. He seemed like a nice enough guy, even with how messy his hair was. It was sort of charming, actually. "I'm still looking for a place for you, Philip. With more intensive support."   
  
"Oh," Pip said, straightening up his body and letting his head fall forward. "Yeah, that. I really appreciate the time you're spending on me. I hope you can find something soon, for your sakes."   
  
"Don't misunderstand me," Gregory said gently. "I just think you'd benefit from therapy and extra support services."  
  
"Extra support services, yeah," Pip mumbled as he climbed into the bed. He wasn't sure what that meant, but it probably wasn't sleeping in his maybe father's bed. "Thanks for the temporary place to sleep, I guess. It's better than outside." For one, there was a fan blowing air around the room and he didn't think he'd build up a sweat only to have it chill him to the bone at night.  
  
"I'll find you something, I promise."  
  
"You're going to give him one of those, what do you call them, a convex," Christophe snickered as Pip pulled the blankets over his head. That didn't make any sense to him, and he wasn't eager to know what an Alpha was going to do to him.   
  
"A what?" Gregory asked, flabbergasted.  
  
"He's going to obsess about us wanting him gone, you know, a convex." Pip peeked out from the blankets as Christophe crossed his arms over his chest with a smile. Gregory just looked confused. "Like how you have a convex about toothpaste caps."   
  
"I do not have a _complex,_ " Gregory sneered, "I just like the cap to be on the toothpaste and for no toothpaste to be on the counter."   
  
"How many languages does your bitch ass speak?" Christophe asked, arms still crossed. "In French we call it, _faire ta salope,_ and in Romani we call it-"   
  
"You just called me a bitch!" Gregory shouted, throwing his hands in the air. I speak French, you dolt!" Pip felt his stomach drop at an Alpha shouting, and fought the urge to climb off the bed and hide. The Alpha wasn't mad at him, was he?   
  
"You could be my bitch," Christophe grinned, walking over and running a hand over Gregory's shoulders. Gregory seemed to be still, but Pip could see him lean into it the slightest bit. "You want to know what else I can call you?"   
  
"This is wildly inappropriate," Gregory stammered with his face red.  
  
"You like this or I wouldn't live here," Christophe smiled before pulling his hand away.   
  
"I live here because someone has to stop the worst parts of you from ruining your life," Gregory snapped. Pip wasn't sure why Christophe was frowning, nor why he felt the need to slam the door as loud as he could.   
  
"I'm going to get him some fucking food!" Christophe shouted from the other room. "Hope the bad parts of me don't take over and I have to, I don't know, get drunk on rubbing alcohol and fuck the bread to his sandwich!"   
  
"That's not what I meant," Gregory said softly. They made brief eye contact, before Pip pulled the blanket up as a barrier. "He's really a decent guy, okay? He's not a bad person. It just takes some work, that's all."   
  
"He likes you," Pip whispered as cabinets slammed in the kitchen.   
  
"He likes Alpha attention," Gregory corrected. "He did what he did for a long time, and it's hard to get out of that mindset. I've read a lot of books about it, and it becomes very hard for an Omega in long term sex work to form any sort of lasting bonds." Pip was certain that Christophe just liked Gregory, in fact, Pip thought that if Christophe had to made a choice between him and Gregory, he'd pick Gregory.   
  
Maybe he was only being nice to him because that's the kind of Omega he thought Gregory would like. He hadn't been nice to him on the day Craig had told him he couldn't go home with them. Pip sniffled, wiping his face furiously with both hands beneath the blanket. Christophe seemed content to watch Pip be as miserable as possible. He'd even goaded Tweek into talking about how much he hated him.  
  
"Gregory?" Pip asked, blanket still over his face.  
  
"Hm?" The foot of the bed sank with extra weight as the blanket was gently removed from his grip. Pip's red rimmed eyes locked onto Gregory's, and he bit his lip to stop from crying more.   
  
"Did Christophe ever mention Tweek, I mean, he has another name," Pip tried to remember what it was, but couldn't, "but does he talk about him?"   
  
"I do not talk about Richard," Christophe said, as a ceramic plate rattled onto the nightstand. "Make me talk about Richard and I'll make you talk about Damien, it's the same. I do not like to think about him."   
  
"Who are these people?" Gregory asked as Pip sat up and grabbed the plate. A cheese sandwich with mustard and pickles, Pip smiled. How did he know that Pip wanted that? He took a bite and smiled at Christophe, whose sneer had seemingly never left his face.   
  
"Shitty Alphas," Christophe shrugged. "Not shitty like you are when you put back the fucking milk with two goddamn sips in the carton, but real shitty."   
  
"That's enough milk for my morning coffee, and I don't want to be wasteful." Gregory looked so high and mighty as he talked, Pip noted through a mouth full of sandwich. "Damien is your other son, correct? So he's around Pip's age and they know each other? You mentioned it at the hospital, but I was in such a state of annoyance that I couldn't quite follow."   
  
Christophe pulled a sleek smart phone out of his pocket, hit the lock screen button, and like magic a picture of Damien lit up. He looked annoyed, but the corners of a smirk pulled up at his lips. "That's Damien."   
  
"He's older," Gregory said as he took the phone away. "So Pip is your youngest son?"   
  
"I mean, probably. I haven't opened that fucking test," Christophe shrugged, dropping his defenses a bit. "He looks like his dad, so it seems like a safe bet."   
  
"You know Phillip's father?" Gregory asked, studying the picture. "How old is this kid? He looks like a man, not a teenager. Is he an Alpha?"   
  
"Tweek is my dad," Pip whispered. "Richard."   
  
"I'm not talking about Richard," Christophe snapped. "Damien is an Alpha. He's old. What else do you need to know?"   
  
"How old is he though?" Gregory asked. "Can I meet him? Do you see him often? You obviously like him if he's your phone background."   
  
"You're just going to call me a whore again," Christophe shrugged. "Why would I give you more fucking ammo?"   
  
"I never called you a whore," Gregory said in a slow and even tone as Pip finished the last of his sandwich.  
  
"You thought it. I know you think it," Christophe grabbed the plate and put it back on the nightstand, then pushed Pip to lay down.  
  
"I never think that. Ever," Gregory frowned. "Just how old is he? I'm trying to get a family history for Phillip. It's helpful to know family history for patients."   
  
"Twenty-six."   
  
"So you lied about your age," Gregory said slowly. "I'm not upset about it. I'm sure you had your reasons for not being factual with me when we met."   
  
"Nope," Christophe plastered a grin on his face that didn't fit. Pip shuddered, then pulled his wrist to his mouth, out of instinct.   
  
"So you're thirty-nine and have a twenty-six year old and an eighteen year old?" Gregory wouldn't even look at him as he said it.   
  
"No." Christophe said, gritting his teeth. Gregory's face softened and he looked relieved. It was the same sort of feeling Pip had gotten when his teacher didn't ask for the homework when he forgot to do it. "I am thirty-nine and I have a twenty-six year old and a seventeen year old."   
  
The air in the room seemed to go still and heavy with distress scents, even as the fan spun above them. Pip rubbed his wrists over his neck, in an attempt to comfort himself while Gregory and Christophe just stared at each other.   
  
He did not feel comforted.   
  
"You can say I'm a whore now," Christophe broke the silence. "I can see you're thinking it."   
  
"No, I am certainly not," Gregory said, wide eyed. "I am thinking, bloody hell, who lets a thirteen year old give birth to a child, and what kind of fucked up person finds a thirteen year old sexually attractive."  
  
"I was twelve," Christophe corrected with the a cruel smile. "Tent cities don't have good locks."   
  
"That is awful," Gregory whispered. "I'm so sorry you had to go through all that."   
  
"Please, my life is fucking peaches and milk, or whatever the fuck you call it," Christophe laughed as his smile fell into something happier. "My mother grew up in Warsaw, before running away to Poland and her siblings died in Treblinka. She went to Auschwitz and worked until the war was over. I have had a much better life. Her whole family died, and I willingly abandoned mine."   
  
"Are you talking about the fucking Holocaust?" Gregory's jaw was agape as Pip grabbed Christophe's hand. "Your family died in the Holocaust? You're French."   
  
"I am Sinte," Christophe shrugged as he shook Pip's hand away. "I was born in France, so I am also French. Even if the French do not see it that way. The camps are technically French soil, and they taught me French. And my sister got me out when I was pregnant and I moved here and learned English. Do not look so goddamn sad, I am fine."  
  
"I don't think I would be fine," Pip whispered.    
  
"Why have you never told me any of this?" Gregory asked as he stood up and wrapped both arms around Christophe. "I am so sorry. That must have been so hard for you."   
  
"I needed a roommate and I didn't want you to call me a dirty Gypsy," Christophe didn't wrap his arms around Gregory, but he didn't pull away. "Europeans don't particularly like us," Christophe snorted. "My sister told me not to tell people, before she put me in a fucking brothel."   
  
"Your sister put you in a brothel?" Gregory sounded shocked. "Why would she do that?" There was a very long pause, with Gregory's arms still tangled around Christophe, and then Pip spoke.   
  
"It's Tweek's fault."   
  
"Shut your goddamn mouth," Christophe snapped, pulling away from Gregory. "It was my fault. You can't just go into heat and expect to be left the fuck alone, okay? You need to learn that lesson. If you go into heat and you're not locked away somewhere, from the inside, not the outside, then bad shit is going to happen to you. This bad shit happened to you, because you went into heat in a stupid fucking place!"   
  
"Tweek is a bad person," Pip felt his face grow red. "He's mean. He threw me. He and his new boyfriend had sex with me and both knotted me at the same time. Plus," Pip inhaled, forcibly unclenching his fists as he sat up, "Plus! Plus he brought you and Craig a soda and said he got everyone one, like I didn't even exist!" As hot tears fell onto the quilt, Pip realized how trivial that last complain was in the grand scheme of everything he was mad about, but he couldn't help but mention it. "He's an awful Dad and he raped you when he broke into your room."   
  
"You can't rape a bitch in heat," Christophe shrugged. "I brought what happened upon myself and you did the same thing. Enjoy your incest baby." Pip winced as the door slammed shut.   
  
"Hey, you okay?" Gregory asked, sitting directly next to Pip. "He can be a prick, like a lot of the time. For obvious reasons, he's not good with people."   
  
"I'm fine," Pip sniffed. He put a hand on his stomach, and pressed ever so gently. He could abort it, he told himself. It'd be like none of this ever happened if he got rid of the baby, even if he'd always remember it.   
  
"You want to talk about it?" Pip sniffled as Gregory put his hands on top of Pip's stomach, too. "You're right about the rape part. If anyone has sex with you and you didn't give them permission before your heat started, then it's rape."   
  
"He hates me," Pip whispered.  
  
"Preposterous," Gregory smiled. "He loves you. He loves you enough to call in tears and beg for you to live with us. He slept at the hospital because he didn't want to be away from you. He just doesn't handle emotional moments well. They make him agitated." He chuckled, "like a bear coming out of hibernation."   
  
"I liked him being by me," Pip admitted. "It made me feel better."   
  
"Of course it did," Gregory laughed. "It must be very frightening to be alone and pregnant at seventeen. I'm sorry this is happening to you." He pulled his hands away and rubbed them at his own neck for a few seconds. "I'm not off my suppressants yet, but I can scent you, if you think that will help." Pip must have looked horrified because Gregory's face softened. "It's a parental measure, not a mating ritual. You are a child."   
  
"Craig used to scent me," Pip whispered as he nodded.   
  
"Did you like that? Craig is Tweek's boyfriend?" Pip nodded again. "Did you have sex with Craig a lot?"   
  
"No," Pip laughed as Gregory rubbed his hands and wrists over Pip's neck. "He, uh, he did once. They both did, at the same time, and it hurt." Gregory pressed harder at his neck as Pip felt a creeping sense of dread. He had sex with his dad and his dad's boyfriend.   
  
"Why are you making that smell? Do you not like me touching you?" Gregory froze, hands hovering near Pip's scent glands.  
  
"It's a bad memory," Pip shook his head, "that's all."   
  
"You didn't know he was your father," Gregory whispered as he pressed against Pip's throat, again. "You shouldn't feel any shame about that."   
  
"Okay," Pip nodded as Gregory pulled his hands away.   
  
"And you didn't do this to yourself. No one would ever do this to themselves, and no one deserves this, including you. You're not stupid, okay? You're going to make it out of this just fine."   
  
Pip sighed as Gregory left the room, and then briefly remembered a comment about how fine was a liar word. 


	22. Chapter 22

Pip pretended to be asleep as the door to the bedroom opened. There was no need to rehash the fight if it was Christophe, and he wasn't in the mood for another emotional pep talk/prying session if it was Gregory. A hand danced across his shoulder, then pressed against his neck, ever so gently. Pip took purposely shallow breaths as someone's wrist ran down his cheeks.   
  
"It's not your fault," Christophe said as he rubbed against his neck. Pip felt himself relax, seemingly against his will. Maybe he was just relieved it wasn't an Alpha looking for sex. "This is my fault, not yours."   
  
"Nah," Pip said behind a fake yawn. Christophe jumped back, then scowled.   
  
"You're up," Christophe said as he smoothed down his t-shirt. Pip could smell earth and grass, but mostly he could smell Christophe. It was like Gregory had never even touched him, not that he hadn't enjoyed Gregory's scent. It was nice to be touched. "I got your medicine. You need to take it."   
  
"Okay," Pip struggled to sit up, and after the third time he slipped back flat on his back, Christophe pulled him up. His hand touched the bulge of his stomach over the blanket and Pip flinched.   
  
"I shouldn't have called it an incest baby," Christophe said in a measured tone. "My sister said that about you, and I was both furious and ashamed."   
  
"I guess any kid would be an incest baby, coming from me," Pip mumbled as he took a glass of water and a few tablets from Christophe's hands. He took a swig, shoved the pills in his mouth, then swallowed.   
  
"If you want to get technical," Christophe sighed, "my bitch ass sister and I are too, because my mom married her one of her surviving third cousins after the Holocaust. It's in the fucking Bible. Adam and Eve were basically the same fucking person." Pip couldn't think of anything to say. "Even Gregory's beloved royal family were a bunch of cousin fuckers, so it's not a big deal."   
  
"Feels like a big deal," Pip whispered as he took another drink of water. "That's why you said it to me, to make me feel bad."   
  
"I fucked it up again!" Christophe yelled toward the open door. "Told you I would."   
  
"You did fine," Gregory reassured, poking his head through the doorway. "There are just a lot of very complicated feelings. The last few months have been traumatic for Phillip, so he might sometimes say something that seems uncouth."   
  
"I didn't do anything," Pip argued softly as he laid back down. "He just wants me to feel bad because he doesn't like me. He doesn't hate me like Tweek, but he doesn't like me."   
  
"Phillip, we talked about this, remember?" Gregory asked as he walked into the room.   
  
"Tweek said he hoped I died," Pip whispered. "He just watched it happen. He should have just let me die in the woods. A meteor for just me." Pip winced as he rolled to his side, but pulled the blanket all the way over his head. He stunk like Christophe, he realized with a sigh. While avoiding the rest of the room, there was no avoiding the mingling of scents.   
  
"I don't fight with Richard," Christophe said as he cleared. "Bad things happened when you argue with an Alpha, particularly one who is insane."   
  
"Well, this is uncomfortable." Gregory was too chipper. "This whole day has been very uncomfortable, and it's late. I made Shepard's Pie, if you think you can stomach it. I'll get you a cup of tea, too" Pip didn't move from beneath the blankets.  
  
"He uses instant potatoes because he's a heretic." Christophe laughed.  
  
"I'm not hungry," Pip spat.   
  
"You're hormonal," Christophe said, the bed creaking beneath his weight. "And you're right to be mad. You should be mad at me."  
  
"I'm not mad," Pip muttered, bringing his wrist to his mouth. He studied the remnants of the tattoo in the light that filtered through the quilt. He could make out the edges, almost, but the part he had chewed over just looked like a black squiggly mess. "Just not hungry."  
  
"Then it's what, teenage angst?" Christophe snorted, pulling the blanket back. "Don't bite yourself." His hand was rough as it pulled Pip's arm away. It was like the skin was just a giant callous. "It'll get infected."   
  
"You don't like me," Pip said as Christophe kept his hold on Pip's arm.   
  
" _Mon chou,_ I love you," Christophe said, looking away. "I love you and Damien very very much. It is just complicated."   
  
"Don't say that," Pip growled. He softened a little, sighing. "Just don't lie. No one's ever said that, and the first person shouldn't be a lie." He felt something desperate build in his belly. "They've never said it to me. I know people say it every day, but they don't say it to me. I'm not, uh, lovable. My first foster family said I cried too much. The second said I was too needy. No one likes a crybaby."   
  
"I always loved you," Christophe whispered, wrapping his arm around Pip's waist and straightening the two of them out. It was remarkable how easily he fit beneath Christophe's chin, and how nice it felt to just be held. "Always. Always," he repeated. "I had," he laughed and something wet fell onto the crown of Pip's head, "I have problems."   
  
"I have problems," Pip parroted, letting Christophe hug him. "I'm scared."   
  
"It's scary. I was terrified with Damien. Inconsolable. I couldn't speak English, I didn't have any friends, and lived with my sister who was not a good person. I had Tweek and he was constantly high. So I took care of a baby, ran a coffee shop, and tried to help Tweek. It was scary and I did a bad job."   
  
"I don't live anywhere," Pip whined into Christophe's chest. "I want to live somewhere forever. Gregory is going to realize no one else wants me and then I'm going to have to leave and where will I go? I don't have anywhere. I'm scared," Pip cried. "No one likes me." Pip sniffled, wiping his nose against Christophe's chest. "No one but social workers like me."   
  
"Because you're easy," Gregory said as two plates clanked against the nightstand. "You're charming as well, and well mannered, and I bet you've never thrown anything at one of us, or threatened anyone. You turn your distress inward, not outward, and it makes for an easier experience. If you were an Alpha, you would have been snatched up before you were six. The stipend bonus for fostering an Omega is, in my opinion, counterproductive to permanent placement."   
  
"Is there a place that's all social workers?" Pip asked as he used Christophe's dirty shirt to wipe his face. Christophe made no move to let him go, as Gregory stood in the doorway.  
  
"The break room at Starbucks?" Gregory howled with laughter as Christophe giggled. "I think more people like you than you think, Phillip."   
  
"Craig's called twice to check on you," Christophe said. "He says sorry. He doesn't think he handled the situation very well."   
  
"He didn't," Gregory snapped.  
  
"He knows," Christophe rubbed Pip's back. "Kid lives in a tent with my fucked up nephew. There's a limit to human stress."   
  
"I made him mad," Pip whispered into Christophe's chest. "He was really nice to me, wouldn't let Kenny or Eric touch me, and he let me wear his clothes. I don't have any clothes."   
  
"We'll get you some, okay," Gregory reassured him. "Everyone should have clothes. Try to eat dinner, then wash up and go to bed."   
   
Pip did as he was told, skimming the top off the Shepard's Pie as Christophe ate wordlessly next to him. He washed Christophe's scent off his face in the shower, then regretted it. When he went back into the room, Christophe was gone.   
  
He wandered into the living room to find the TV on and Christophe wrapped in Gregory's arms, crying. He pulled away as soon as he saw Pip, straightening himself up and focusing on the news.  
  
"Sorry, I just," Pip stammered. "I wanted to ask you something." When Christophe stared at him with a blank face, Pip gulped. "I thought, maybe, if you wanted to-"   
  
"Out with it," Christophe grumbled.   
  
"Don't tell him that," Gregory chided.   
  
"Then he should just ask and stop hesitating."   
  
"He's setting himself up for a letdown," Gregory added. "Patients in therapy do that when they think you're going to react poorly, according to my professor. It's important to have a positive reaction in these situations."   
  
"It's not a big deal," Pip dug his socked foot into the floor. "I won't be upset if you say no."   
  
"He could have just asked the question and I could have answered it."  
  
"He's panicked," Gregory argued. "He's used to authority figures falling short. Give him his space to ask the question. The relationship is new."   
  
"It's not new," Christophe said, running his hands through his hair. "I've known him for seventeen years. We lived together for four." Pip shifted his weight from foot to foot. "None of this is new, he's-"   
  
"Will you scent me again before bed?" Pip blurted out. "It came off in the shower, and I liked it. You don't have to, obviously. I can't make you do it. It's probably a crime to make someone scent you, right? Like assault, or something. I'm not a criminal so I'd never make you, but-"   
  
Pip stopped talking as two hands rubbed the side of his neck, and Christophe told him to hush. An arm wrapped around his waist and he was walked back to bed, with Christophe's hand lingering for a few extra seconds on his stomach.   
  
"Stay?" Pip asked, his mouth dry. "In case I need something. I still don't feel well, and if I need something, it'd be nice to have you here, just to help."   
  
"To help," Christophe nodded. "After I finish my conversation with Gregory." Pip blushed as a whined. He hadn't meant to whine.  "It'll be short."   
  
Okay," Pip said, climbing into bed. The bed smelled like Christophe, and he smelled like Christophe, and it was very similar to having Christophe actually there. He closed his eyes as Christophe walked away, and pretended he never left.   
  
"Told you it'd go fine," was the last thing Pip heard before he fell asleep.   
  
When Pip woke up in the middle of the night to pee, he saw Christophe huddled over himself in a kitchen chair, snoring. It looked terribly uncomfortable, Pip thought. He didn't think he'd be able to sleep in a chair, not when a soft bed sat next to him, a soft bed he'd purchased with someone else in it.   
  
It was terribly unfair for Pip to be so comfortable, and Christophe to be relegated to a chair.   
  
"Christophe?" Pip asked as his feet touched the ground.   
  
"You okay?" Christophe darted awake and the chair creaked beneath his movements.   
  
"Yeah, I just," he remembered the conversation with Gregory and felt silly. "You can sleep in the bed. It's big enough."   
  
Christophe made a noncommittal grunt as Pip left use the bathroom, and by the time he was back, Christophe was sound asleep in bed.   
  
When he woke up, he was gone.   
  



	23. Chapter 23

Waking up alone was terrifying. Pip could feel the fear build up under his skin and leak out through his eyes. He forced himself to sit up after using his hand to skim the side of the bed for Christophe's body and not finding it.   
  
The sun wasn't even up yet.   
  
"Christophe?" Pip asked, trying to get a hold of himself. He knew it was a nice bedroom, and any fear from the shadows on the walls was unfounded. Nothing bad was going to happen here, or at least not from the shadows strewn around the room. He swung his feet off the side of the bed and blindly fumbled through the room with both arms out, looking for the doorknob. "Christophe?"   
  
A whirling sound came from the kitchen and the lights were on. Someone else had to be home and he hoped it wasn't a burglar. Pip crept on his tiptoes toward the noise, his throat dry.   
  
"Did I wake you?" Christophe asked as the floor creaked beneath Pip. "I'm so used to Gregory sleeping right through the blender. Damn thing is noisy as shit."  
  
"You were gone," Pip whispered as he entered the room.   
  
"Work," Christophe shrugged as he hit the button on the blender again. A pink mixture swirled around as the metal ground the ice to a pulp. "You want some smoothie? It's strawberry banana, and like kale, but when Gregory's not awake I put as little of that shit as possible in my goddamn body."   
  
Pip nodded as he leaned on the counter. Where did he work that he had to leave before the sun came up? Once the blender stopped, he grabbed an extra glass from the cabinet, and filled it about halfway with the smoothie. He slid it to Pip, then filled a reusable cup and screwed the lid on it.   
  
"My first stop is the a fucking hour away," Christophe groaned, taking a drink. "You should go to bed. I put your medicine in the pill box, take the D ones in the morning and the N ones at night. It's Friday, so start there."  
  
"Thank you," Pip mumbled into his glass as Christophe placed the plastic container next to Pip.   
  
"Go rest. Gregory's going to make you eat breakfast and lunch, and probably dinner. I'll be back late." Pip nodded as Christophe headed through the dark living room toward the door. He turned back, seemingly out of nowhere, and sat his cup on the counter. "Scent before I go?"  
  
"If you want to," Pip nodded, tracing the condensation on his glass. He turned around and flinched under Christophe's hands. When Christophe grabbed his wrists and had Pip scent him, Pip gasped. "Why do you want me to do this? I've never done this before. I don't even know how."   
  
"It's easy," Christophe snorted, dropping Pip's hands, "but you don't have to if you don't want to." Shakily, Pip scented Christophe, holding his breath as they touched. "Thank you," Christophe grinned as Pip let his arms fall to his sides.   
  
Pip watched, inhaling too deeply, as Christophe left the house. He was going to be alone, well alone with Gregory, but Gregory was asleep. Sleeping people didn't really count as companions, Pip thought dryly as he traced over the spots Christophe had touched.   
  
"Love you," Christophe said as the door shut.  
  
It felt like a bear trap snapping Pip on the foot. He mouthed his reply, not daring to vocalize the words. They tasted foreign in is mouth, even silent.   
  
Pip sipped his drink, grinning into his glass. He pulled the pills out of their individual container, and then swallowed. He wasn't even sure what he was taking, but he took it anyway. He trusted Christophe enough to take pills without question. No one sits with you for two weeks just to kill you when you get moved into their bedroom.  
  
He crawled back into bed, and tried to sleep. Instead, he stared through the blinds, waiting for the sun to come up.  And then when it did rise, he stayed in bed, sneaking out only to pee. On the trip where he saw Gregory's tangled hair peaking out from a mug of coffee, Pip sighed in relief.   
  
"Good morning," Pip whispered, giving a half wave.  
  
"Coffee," Gregory groaned. "Coffee, then morning."   
  
"Okay," Pip nodded, taking his time in the bathroom. When we returned to the kitchen, Gregory was much closer to his peppy self.   
  
"Do you want some oatmeal? Or a full English? Fruit?" Gregory asked, milling about the kitchen.   
  
"Anything is fine." Pip said.   
  
"No, it's not," Gregory argued. "I spent the better part of last night browsing pregnancy websites, and I read that you're having cravings and food aversions."   
  
"Really, whatever you're in the mood for," Pip said, chewing a ragged fingernail as Gregory stumbled around, pulling things out of the fridge, then shoving them back.   
  
"It's okay to voice your wants, Phillip. You're allowed to have preferences," Gregory sighed. "I'll just make it all, and you can eat what you want. We will get there." 

Pip nodded as he was directed to sit at the kitchen table in the corner. Sometimes a smell would waft over and overpower the smell of Christophe, and he'd gag. Was that sausage? Or was it bacon? Whatever it was, it made Pip want to vomit.  
  
After long enough smelling it, he did in fact have to rush to the bathroom.   
  
"What's making you sick?" Gregory asked when he crept back to the table.   
  
"Nothing," Pip whispered as he tried to disappear.  
  
"Obviously something is making you feel ill. I could hear you retching from the kitchen."   
  
"I'm sorry," Pip groaned, trying to get his stomach to settle. Meat and vomit was not a better smell than just meat.  
  
"Just tell me what's upsetting your stomach and I'll bin it," Gregory glared as he spoke, a determined angle to his eyebrows. Pip didn't want to lie again.  
  
"Meat," Pip said. "I just don't like the smell. I'm really sorry. I know that's your breakfast."   
  
"I'll stop cooking it then," Gregory smiled, turning off a burner. "A full English isn't healthy, anyway," Gregory laughed. "After the baby." Pip nodded, resting his forehead on the table. "I'm sorry you don't feel well."   
  
"I'm fine," Pip whispered. "I'm okay." He groaned as a plate was placed in front of him, though it smelled okay.   
  
"Well, eat up, you're such a scrap," Gregory laughed. "The both of you need to fatten up."   
  
Pip looked at the plate, with two fried eggs, a piece of toast, tomatoes, cut fruit, a small bowl of oatmeal, and beans. Pip had never in his life eaten beans for breakfast. He smiled, poking at them with the tins of his fork.   
  
"You don't have to eat anything that doesn't sit well."   
  
"I'll try it," Pip shrugged, taking a singular bean and putting it in his mouth. It was surprisingly good, he realized as he swallowed. He took another forkful, then another, and then Gregory was laughing. "These are really good!"   
  
"They're just Heinz," Gregory smiled as Pip chewed. "Do you want some more?"   
  
"Please," Pip nodded, scrapping the sauce off the still otherwise full plate. It surprised him when Gregory titled his plate, giving him his entire portion. "No, you didn't have to do that."   
  
"I wanted to," Gregory said as he ate his eggs. "And at least we found something you like to eat."   
  
Pip nodded, trying to eat slower. Once the beans were gone, again, he started to poke around his food again, and he ate a few slices of banana and some of the toast while Gregory cleaned his plate. Did all Alphas eat that much?   
  
"You did okay," Gregory teased as he pulled the plate away. "A solid C, and you know what they say, C's get degrees."   
  
"Who says that?" Pip asked as the sink started to run.  
  
"Stressed out grad students," Gregory joked. "Not that I get C's. I'm hovering at around a 3.8 and it's only a semester until I get my Masters."   
  
"I had a 3.9 in high school," Pip said, loud enough for Gregory to hear as he washed the plates. He didn't know why he was bragging. Alphas didn't like boastful Omega. He didn't want Gregory to dislike him.  
  
"I knew you were smart," Gregory said. He sounded excited, and almost a little bit proud. "Did you take AP classes?"   
  
"Yeah," Pip said. "I didn't do well, but I took them." If he could play it down, then maybe it would blow over. He wouldn't be admonished for talking about himself if he could lessen his achievement.   
  
"Did you pass them?" Gregory asked. "What grades did you get?  What were your scores on your tests?"   
  
"I missed my senior year tests," Pip gulped as Gregory sat down across from him. "I didn't even graduate, so it doesn't really matter."   
  
"You can get a GED!" Gregory exclaimed. "Your test scores should carry over, and you could start college with college credits. It makes a big difference in the speed of graduation."   
  
"I'm not going," Pip said, slouching on himself. "I have other things to focus on."   
  
"You should go," Gregory said sternly. "You have a baby to care for, and to get a good job, you'll need a degree. What do you want to be? Any fields of study catching your interest?"  
  
"I don't know," Pip sighed, "like a nurse? Or a teacher? An Omega job, they're all pretty similar. Maybe a secretary. But not with a baby, I guess. Once an Omega has kids, they're supposed to just do that."   
  
"Why on Earth would you think that?" Gregory asked, taken aback.   
  
"All my teachers that got pregnant quit," Pip sunk his forehead back on the table as his stomach rumbled. He'd just eaten, but he was still uncomfortable. "The Omegas, anyways."   
  
"Just because you see other Omegas quit their jobs for children, does not mean you have to do that. Beta women manage children and work, so do Alpha and Beta men. You have the ability to choose what kind of life you want to have," Gregory said. There was no way that was true, Pip thought.   
  
"Alphas don't like it when their Omegas work." Pip tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, which immediately fell forward.   
  
"Well, good thing you don't have an Alpha," Gregory said with a hurumph.   
  
"Oh God," Pip cried as that sunk in. "I'm doomed, aren't I?"  
  
"No, you're not," Gregory argued. "There's no need to be so dramatic. Loads of Omegas handle having children without partners. You will adjust just fine. They use social support structures and family ties. They muddle through just like everyone else."   
  
"Even if I want to get a degree, or go to school, I can't get it done in time," Pip wheezed. "Do places even hire adults without high school diplomas? I'm going to be homeless," he grabbed the bulge of his stomach as it growled again. "We're going to be homeless."   
  
"No one is going to be homeless," Gregory chided. "Calm down, I didn't mean to upset you. That was not my intention."   
  
"I don't even have a job," Pip keened as someone rubbed his back. Was Gregory touching him?   
  
"You can get a job, if that'll make you feel better," Gregory cooed as he rubbed in small circles. "You should at least get your GED first. It's just a test, and if you took AP classes and had a 3.9 it should be a piece of cake."   
  
"Who hires a pregnant Omega?" Pip sniffled not daring to look up. "I can't take a baby to work. I can't have a baby."   
  
"You know, you don't have to have a baby," Gregory said pressing a bit harder on Pip's back. "Three months is still early enough to make a different choice."   
  
"To kill it?" Pip asked turning his head so his other cheek was against the cool wood.  
  
"You can't kill something that isn't alive, Phillip." Gregory's hand stopped moving. "I know that it's a big decision, but it's a time limited decision, so mull it over."   
  
A voice in the back of his head chimed that he could mull over spending eternity in Hell, but he kept that to himself. Secretly, Pip was grateful that Christophe had offered to scent him before he left for work; that had to be the only thing keeping him from losing it as Gregory suggested he get an abortion. He could smell Christophe, and it was like he was right there saying he'd support any choice.   
  
"Do you think I should?" Pip asked, anxious to hear his reply. He was smart, obviously smart. And while quitting his job to let Pip live in his apartment didn't seem particularity intelligent, the books in the bookcase in the living room begged to differ. Pip didn't know what _A Brief Introduction to String Theory_ was, but as thick as the book was, he didn't think it was all that brief.   
  
"That's a decision no Alpha in your life should have any say in. I do think you ought to get some rest," Gregory clucked his tongue as he left the room. His footfall was soft, but not silent, Pip noted. "A nap might help you calm down a bit, also let your food digest."   
  
When Pip finally got the nerve to leave his seat, Gregory was of in the living room, engrossed in his laptop. He looked determined, just as he always did, and Pip didn't want to break his concentration as his eyes scanned back and forth and fingers tapped wildly. For a fleeting moment, Pip saw what he thought Christophe admired so much; a man who very much knew what he was doing and was going to do everything in his power to get it done.   
  
As Pip climbed into Christophe's bed, he wondered if he could be like that, if just being around Gregory was enough to have some of the grit and perseverance rub off onto him. Maybe the baby would be like him, if Pip couldn't manage it.   
  
Pip tried to imagine coming home to his own apartment after work, though it was hard to place himself working in any profession, and seeing his child typing as furiously as Gregory. He entertained ideas of family dinners where the two of them sat down and they animatedly explained complex topics, and when Pip couldn't understand, they simplified them like it was nothing. He imagined doting on a 3.8 college GPA and bragging to his friends. They'd be impressed, too.   
  
Cautiously, Pip pulled up his T-shirt, letting it rest above his bump, and gently touched his stomach. Would he be disappointed if they were stupid? There was a chance, probably a good chance, that they'd be like Pip. An average, run of the mill student who tried to do well, but usually just ended up just doing okay. Would he be able to get excited for that? No one had ever stuck his tests on the fridge. No one had ever praised him when signing a progress report.   
  
Would he be handed an test with a big red 89 in the corner and choose to toss it in the bin? Was that the choice he'd instinctively make? 89 wasn't that good, not really. He knew that much. It was a high B, but nothing extraordinary. When he got A's they were only 90s or 91s. It was almost like not even getting a real A.   
  
The more he thought about it, the more the situation began to morph. What if he was in college and he brought back an 89? Would Gregory tell him to try harder? Or would he just look at the paper unimpressed? Would Christophe even look at it? An 89 wasn't even an A, Pip reminded himself as he started to feel disappointed.   
  
An 89 wasn't an A, and it wasn't like he had any actual school work. It was dumb to be upset that daydreams of people didn't react properly to second tier grades. The simulations where Gregory faked excitement were worse. They weren't at first, but being able to watch the scene play out after he'd left the room didn't help. Gregory would say things like, what a disappointment, when Pip was out of earshot, or complain about how he was wasting his time.   
  
"Phillip?" The door creaked open. "You want to talk about what's bothering you?"   
  
"Nothing," Pip said, scrambling to cover his stomach with his shirt.   
  
"If nothing is wrong, then why are you crying?" Gregory asked, cocking his eyebrow. Pip rubbed his eyes, and sure enough they were wet. "Is it something I said?"   
  
"No," Pip shook his head, furiously wiping his eyes. "It's stupid. I don't want to talk about it."   
  
"Just so you know," Gregory started, clearing his throat, "trauma can make you act strangely, like crying in bed, or being agitated for seemingly no reason. These are all normal reactions to processing this sort of thing, and you shouldn't compound those emotions with guilt. Being open and honest can help to stem a bit of that, so I'm here if you need to talk."   
  
"Thanks," Pip said, trying to sound macho. As if deeping his voice would hide the visible red rim of his eye or erase Gregory's short term memory of Pip crying.   
  
"I ordered you a study guide," Gregory announced. "It might be nice to have something constructive to do. Make you feel a bit more in control of your life, and all that." Pip stared, wide eyed. Gregory was going to get to see how stupid Pip was in real time. "No pressure to use it. I just thought it was a good option to give you. I didn't want to make you ask us for it."   
  
"Well," Pip mumbled, feeling his cheeks heat up, "thanks. I'll use it, since you bought it. I'd hate to waste it." Wasting the book he'd paid for would be even worse than just admitting he was stupid. "I don't know what good it'll do."   
  
"I know," Gregory laughed. Pip felt his stomach drop. Gregory could tell he was an idiot. "The test is so easy, and really you just about completed high school, right? You don't really learn anything new after April anyways. Once the standardized tests are over, the year is over. And it's just pass fail, so it's not like you get extra credit for doing better."   
  
"You think I'll pass?" Pip asked, astounded.   
  
"Of course! It's just a GED, and public school is bad, but it's not that bad. It's not the LSAT, which I bombed magnificently before deciding to stick with social work. It feels nice to make changes for every day people, instead of just fighting relentlessly against a system of oppression, anyway. Different strokes, you know?" Gregory laughed again before straightening his face. "I take it you think you won't."   
  
"You failed something?" Pip asked. "Are you lying?"   
  
"I didn't fail it, necessarily, but a 149 isn't high enough to go anywhere I wanted. I didn't do the work, and when you don't, it shows," Gregory smiled gently. "And that's why you have a study guide. That and the workbook will really help, I think. Once you start doing the work you'll realize that you have a better handle on this than you thought."   
  
"If you think so-"  
  
"I do. Get some rest." 


	24. Chapter 24

After a few days of Christophe being almost completely absent, Sunday was family dinner.   
  
Pip had never gone to a proper family dinner, he thought as he smoothed Christophe's sweats over his pregnant body. Who came to family dinners? Obviously Damien, since that's whose apartment they were going to, but did Tweek go? That seemed unlikely from how Tweek reacted to Christophe in the hospital.   
  
Damien's father wasn't around, was he? From Pip's understanding Christophe had gotten pregnant in France, but an Alpha could move for his kid, right? Alphas in books did it. Tweek's mom could go, too.  
  
Tweek's mom who hated him, Pip groaned as he tried to press the wrinkles out of Christophe's shirt with his hands. What was a Turkey Trot, anyway? He was wearing an orange t-shirt with a cartoon turkey in running shoes, and with the grey sweats and his choppy haircut, he looked ridiculous, If Tweek's mom didn't like him before, then she wasn't going to like him now that this was the best face he could put forward.   
  
He spent the entire car ride picking balls of fabric off his pants, and by the time they parked in the parking garage, he'd maybe cleared two whole square inches. He was a mess, and how was he ever supposed to meet potential family this way?   
  
Christophe didn't even knock, just stuck a key in Damien's lock and opened the door. Even in his foster family's house, he had to knock. He'd never had a key to a house, he thought as he stood out in the hallway. They gave him a key to a padlock at school, but that was just for his locker, in case he couldn't get the combination right. It wasn't a house key.   
  
"Why are you crying?" Christophe asked as he stood in the doorway. "I said if you didn't want to see Damien, you did not have to come. No one is making you."   
  
Pip nodded, wiping his eyes. Not having a house key was a stupid thing to cry about. He was sure loads of people didn't have key rings. Lots of people had to be totally alone and not even have a house key. He just needed to stop crying and put on a brave face for the family. They might even be his family. They might not be, but they might.  
  
"If you're going to piss and moan, you can just sit outside," Christophe groaned, as Pip watched with tears tracing down his face. "I guess come in later, or whatever. Dinner doesn't take that long anyway. It's just a shitty couple of hours spent eating crappy food; you'll be fine outside."    
  
Why would Christophe invite him to a family dinner? Every year, his foster family went to a big family Christmas party, and Pip was left with a facility meant to provide breaks to foster parents. It was for family only. Maybe Christophe had just remembered that the dinners were like that too   
  
When the door shut, he slid down, back against the wall, and cried into his hands. He never should have come to this. He obviously wasn't welcome. Damien didn't even like him. Damien hated him. Pip was Damien's most hated person, he bet. He was having Damien's baby, and Damien didn't even want him to sit on the couch near him.  
  
He'd pushed him to the floor, for just trying to show him how he was hurt. Alphas were supposed to care if their Omegas were hurt, especially if they were pregnant. An Alpha was never supposed to hurt their pregnant Omega; it was against biology.   
  
Pip wasn't his, he thought as he blew his nose into Christophe's shirt. Christophe had spent the last three days working past sunset, and tonight when he got home he invited him to dinner. Was it just pity? Did he want Pip to feel like he had a family, even if he obviously didn't. Maybe Christophe had found out that he wasn't his father.   
  
Maybe this was a last play to give Pip somewhere new to live. He could live with Damien, since he was pregnant with Damien's kid. Even if Christophe wasn't his dad, the baby was his grand kid, right? No grandparent would throw their grandchild onto the street, even if they were unborn. Pip was just a vessel, and when he outlived his usefulness, he'd be tossed aside.   
  
Pip peaked up from his hands as the door creaked open. Damien was in a button up shirt, with slacks, and dress shoes as he glared. Pip was woefully under dressed. He never should have said he'd go. He should have sat in the apartment with Gregory and watched documentaries about farming conditions in Africa. Even if Gregory made him feel uncomfortable in close proximity, he should have sucked it up and given Christophe his space.   
  
"Stop crying," Damien growled. "I don't want noise complaints from the neighbors."   
  
Pip nodded, sniffling. If he could have stopped crying, he would have. No one sat down and decided they liked to cry, he thought as he buried his head in his arms. He obviously wasn't welcome as the door shut again. Damien should have been his Alpha. His stomach was swollen with his kid, or what was possibly his child, and he didn't even seem to care.   
  
It was dumb to sit there and cry. They didn't like him. If they liked him, then he wouldn't be outside, he'd be inside eating dinner. Family dinner. If Pip wasn't at the table then he obviously wasn't Christophe's family. He wondered when Christophe was going to tell him. When would he get sick of sharing a bed with an 18 year old who wasn't his son?  
  
He'd gotten the paperwork back and it must have been negative. Maybe he was just hedging his bets until he could do a paternity test of the baby. Was that why Gregory had asked if he wanted an abortion? Was he in on it? If he didn't have a baby, then there was no reason to hang onto him.   
  
Sobbing in the hallway was unacceptable. Damien would only come out and discipline him again. He might even push him. That'd hurt the baby, or it could. If the baby was the only part of him worth anything, then he should keep it safe, right? He rose to his feet, holding his breath as he cried, and descended the stairs.   
  
If he had to cry, he'd do it away from the building. He'd cry as he walked home. Not his home, but to Christophe's home.   
  
Christophe spent the last four days scenting a stranger, Pip thought. Christophe was the first person Pip ever scented, and they probably weren't even related. He was about to be told that no, Christophe wasn't his dad, but he could stay until Damien's kid was out. Or maybe he was just waiting for a good time to tell him to leave.   
  
Now was as good a time as any, Pip sniffled as he wandered around the city at night.   
  
"Pip?" A familiar voice called out as he stumbled through the streets. Pip didn't look back. It was never good to look back.  
  
He spent a month after his first rejection from his foster family thinking about how he could have been better and what he should have done instead of cry. He'd always cried too easily. No one liked a crybaby, and no one liked him.   
  
"Phillip!" The man screamed. "Hey! Is that you?" Maybe if he didn't answer, then Craig would give up. He walked faster as Craig gave chase, then flinched with a yelp when a strong hand grabbed his shoulder. "Why the hell are you outside at ten?"   
  
"I'm just walking home," Pip said, trying to collect himself. It wasn't a lie, not really. He was walking, and where ever he found would be home, wouldn't it?   
  
"Why are you out this late?" Craig asked, spinning Pip around and scrutinizing him underneath the yellow glow of the streetlights. "You look better. I'm glad. I'm happy you found a good place to crash. Are they treating you alright?"   
  
"I'm fine," Pip said as he tried to shrug out of Craig's grip. "I'm just running late."   
  
"Where you coming from?" Craig asked with a smile. "Let me walk you home. I'll just tell Tweek work kept me. Walking alone at night is sort of shit."   
  
"If you walk me, then you're walking alone, aren't you?" Pip said, rubbing his eyes.   
  
"Are you crying?" Craig asked. "Were you crying? What happened?"   
  
"No, it's fine."   
  
"Then let me walk you home," Craig pushed.   
  
He was awfully pushy for a man who'd let him run off into the woods to die while he slept in his tent. If he didn't want to handle him anymore, then why was he so insistent on walking him home?  
  
"You don't even like me," Pip spat.   
  
"I do," Craig said with a sigh. "Look, it's complicated, and obviously you and Tweek fight like cats and dogs so there was tension, but I don't not like you."   
  
Pip wouldn't describe his and Tweek's relationship as fighting. It was more doing everything he could to appease an insane person, and then still being attacked. Pip didn't fight, he just rolled over in submission and got his insides ripped out for it.  
  
"Just leave me alone," Pip sighed as he started to walk again. "I just want to be alone."   
  
"What happened?" Craig's hand was on him again, stopping him from moving. He kept trying to walk, but it was like a car stuck in the mud, he just span his wheels, getting nowhere. "You were crying, weren't you."   
  
"You're so smart, huh?" Pip shouted, using the moment of surprise to break away from Craig. "I'm leaving."   
  
"I'll come with," Craig offered. "Look I did a bad job when you showed up before. I'm sorry. I messed up, and I should have been nicer to you."   
  
"No, you shouldn't have," Pip growled. "You were just as mean as everyone else. You shouldn't have pretended to be nice, then decided to be mean. Just start with being mean, it's easier."   
  
"I don't know what kind of baggage you're holding on to, but like, I don't think most people dislike you. You're pretty easy. If Tweek wasn't around you'd have been a non issue. All I had to ever do was feed you some bread, then walk you to the bathroom. You're less work than guinea pigs, and like, those are a piece of cake if you have two."   
  
Why was he talking about guinea pigs, Pip wondered as he stormed off down the street. Craig's work boots clapped against the pavement, and Pip groaned. Why was he putting so much effort into this? What part of his was worth this effort? He wasn't anything special. He was less work than a guinea pig, so why give chase?  
  
"Should you even run while pregnant?" Craig asked as Pip bolted down an alley. "I don't think you're even supposed to do that." Pip slowed, because he honestly wasn't sure. The doctor at the hospital had told him to take it easy, in case his lung collapsed again, but his lung collapsing would give him a guaranteed place to sleep for another week or two.   
  
Plus food.   
  
"I have Christophe's number. I can call him and he can meet us. You don't have to run home. I know he has a truck. I don't think he wants you walking alone at night."   
  
"He doesn't care." Pip turned on his heel, with a hand on each hip and glared. "I'm probably not even his kid, and this kid," he halfheartedly gestured at his stomach, "might not even be his real kid's baby, so like, why the hell keep me around? I cry too much and he doesn't like it. If he doesn't like me, then I shouldn't stay. I should leave. I'm leaving."   
  
"Well, then we can call whoever," Craig shrugged. "I don't care where you're staying, but like, it's late, you should get home."   
  
"I'll get there when I get there," Pip said as he turned back toward the alley. It was dark, too dark, but he pressed on regardless. If someone wanted to mug him, then they could try. He didn't have any cash. He didn't even have his ID.  
  
"I'll call an Uber. Just give me the address you're staying, and I'll have someone take you home," Craig hummed. "I mean, unless it's out of the city, in which case I don't really have that kind of money, but I'll wait with you until someone comes to get you."   
  
"No one is ever going to come and get me," Pip said as he tripped over a box in the middle of the alley. Who left a crate out like that? He gasped as two strong hands stopped him from face planting into the cement. "Next time let me fall."   
  
"Who pissed in your cereal?" Craig asked as he pulled his hands away. "You weren't like this before."   
  
"You weren't either," Pip snapped back. "I've got places to be. Just let me go."   
  
"Where are you going?" Craig grabbed him again. "I'll get you a ride. Anywhere you want to go in the city, my treat." Pip stared dumbfounded as Craig pulled out his phone. He bet Craig had house keys, to his mom's house at least. And if he didn't have them now, he had them before. Craig was a person who, at the very least, had house keys in the past.   
  
"I don't know the address," Pip lied. He didn't know Christophe's address, but he wasn't going there. He wasn't going anywhere. Did nowhere have an address? When Craig looked at him, face lit by the phone, Pip felt something in him shift, just a touch. "Just a shelter, or a bridge, or whatever," Pip shrugged. "You don't need to help me. I'm not asking to burden you with my existence. I'm not trying to bother you. You're following me."   
  
"Let me just Google a bridge or whatever," Craig snorted as he typed against his phone. Was using a touch screen weird? Did you get use to the sound of your own nails on the glass? The computer lab at school had tablets, but Pip rarely used them. What if he broke one on accident? They'd send the bill to his parents- they were not his parents. He shouldn't think of people who kicked him out the day he turned eighteen as parents. They didn't really care about him. A phone rang through the speakers as Pip screwed up his face.   
  
"Hey, sorry to bother you Christophe, this is Craig. Yeah." He paused as Pip started to walk away again, careful to step around any hazards. "No, I'm not calling to check on Pip, he's actually with me. Yeah, I'll send you an address. Take your time, it's not trouble, really."   
  
"Why did you call him?" Pip asked as the alley gave way to a real street. Cars whizzed past, and for a few moments, Pip contemplated running into traffic. "They don't want me there. No one wants me anywhere."   
  
"That's not true," Craig said as he placed a hand on Pip's shoulder, again.   
  
"I don't know why you think you can keep fucking touching me!" Pip shouted, slapping his hand away. "Just let me go. I want to be alone. No one likes me anyway. I don't matter, so go."   
  
"I think you matter," Craig said as he typed against that damn phone again. Even homeless people had smart phones, Pip grimaced. Craig for sure had a phone and probably had keys, and he lived in a tent. How was he so stupid as to think that he was anyone's family if he never had keys? "I mean, like, you matter at least as much as like Tweek and I matter, but like, how much that is, I don't really know. It's hard to assign values to this sort of shit."   
  
"I matter less than Tweek," Pip growled as he started walking down the street. "I matter less, because you picked him."   
  
"You just matter less to me, but like I'm not the metric for the whole world or nothing," Craig said as he followed behind him. He didn't want to be followed.  
  
"I know the whole world hates me, so I might as well just go," Pip argued.   
  
"Where the hell are you going to go where you can avoid the whole world?" Craig laughed. He actually fucking laughed at him. This was a joke, because Craig was important and beloved by people, and Pip wasn't. Christophe had lied when he'd said it. It was just a way to catch him off guard. He was setting him up for something awful later down the line.   
  
"I'll find a place," Pip said as he continued to walk. "I bet Christophe just wants his clothes back when he finds me, anyway. I'll just sit downtown naked until the police come. I bet they won't even bother. I'll just in some alley naked for the rest of my life. It'll be great. Living the dream."   
  
"I don't think he wants his clothes back," Craig said with a snort. "Seems like a petty thing."   
  
"You wanted your clothes back," Pip said as he rounded a corner. Occasionally he'd pass a man, or a group of women, but no one seemed to give him a second glace. He was being chased through downtown Denver by a strange Alpha man, and no one even cared.  
  
"I should have never done that to you," Craig replied guiltily. "I was just mad."  
  
"Maybe Christophe will be just mad." Pip flinched as a truck pulled up beside him, honking.  
  
"I'm pretty fucking mad!"  
  
"Then take your stupid shirt back!" Pip yelled, pulling it over his head and wadding it into a ball. He tossed in through the window, smacking Christophe in the shoulder. "Your shoes, too!" Pip threw them right at Christophe's head, but missed. One bounced off the car door, while the other hit the steering wheel. Christophe stared, face drawn, as Pip continued to scream. "I have shit balance, but let me get your pants too! Since I'm for sure not your goddamn kid! And since I cry too much! You're just like them, you know!"   
  
When Pip tried to pull the pants off, Craig grabbed his hands. As a natural reflex, Pip kicked at his shins with his bare feet, and shouted as loud as he could for Craig to leave him the fuck alone.   
  
"Just shove him in the car," Christophe groaned as he climbed out of his truck. "I don't know why the fuck he's doing this."   
  
"Because you're a person who has house keys! You have house keys to two different apartments, and I've never had a house key in my whole stupid life! I wouldn't expect someone with house keys to understand what that feels like! I wouldn't expect you to understand anything!"   
  
"Are you throwing a tantrum over fucking keys?" Christophe asked with a smirk as he pulled open the passenger side door. "Keys are the hill you're going to die on?"   
  
"Yeah, let me die then!" Pip kicked a few more times as Craig sighed. "You have keys and I can't even get upset about it, or I have to sit outside during family dinner. Because I'm not family! If I'm not family, then you're just going to kick me out after your grand kid is born, and what am I going to do then? Huh? Have you thought about me at all? How am I going to adjust to having no one again when you and Gregory tell me to go?" Pip sniffled, then sobbed as Craig let him go. "I'm not going to have anyone, and I'll be all alone. I won't ever have any house keys or a real family, or anything. I won't have anything and you'll have a baby."   
  
" _Merde, mon lapinou,_ " Christophe whispered as he grabbed Pip by the shoulders. "I do not know what in the hell you are talking about."   
  
"I know you read the letter," Pip spat. "That's why you didn't care if I sat outside, because I'm not family. I'm a walking incubator, and that's why I get to stay, but what about after that?  What do I do next? Huh? You didn't think about that, because it doesn't matter, and I don't matter." Christophe opened his mouth to speak, but Pip started screaming. "You're a person who has keys to two different houses! You don't understand! You have parents and kids and nephews! I never even thought that maybe I'd have a nephew! I just don't have anything! And I'm going to have baby and if it's Damien's you take it! Because it should be yours, right? It's only proper for it to be with it's family! If they have family, I shouldn't be the monster that makes them live forever without house keys or people who love them!"  
  
"Phillip," Christophe said, voice low as he loosened his grip on Pip, then slowly rubbed the scent glands on his neck with his wrists. "I didn't open anything. No one opened anything, and no one is taking your baby."   
  
"That's worse," Pip cried as Christophe hushed him. He was vaguely aware of Craig's lingering presence, but he couldn't bring himself to care as Christophe scented him. "It's worse if all they have is me. I don't have anyone, so they won't either. I'm going to ruin their life."   
  
"Chhh, chhhh," Christophe cooed. "Just chut, okay? We can talk about this at home, after dinner, okay? It's good to eat, no?"  
  
"You ate dinner," Pip whined as Christophe herded him into the truck. "You ate without me. You had a key, and everything." Once Pip was in, Christophe motioned for him to slide toward the middle, the gestured Craig into the truck. Reluctantly, Craig hopped in.   
  
"I feel like I'm intruding," Craig said as he buckled his seat belt. "Like this isn't supposed to be shit I see, you know?"   
  
"In a fucked up way, you're like his step dad," Christophe huffed as he climbed into the drivers seat. "I appreciate the call."   
  
"You have a car key, too," Pip whimpered, running his fingers over the key stuck in the ignition as Christophe shifted the truck into gear. "You have a lot of keys." At least six, Pip counted as they banged against the column.   
  
"I know you've seen keys before, Phillip," Christophe snorted as he pulled back into traffic. "Foster care is not that awful."   
  
"Dude, it's pretty bad," Craig argued. "Another kid, Thomas, used to live in Kenny's tent, and he told us about getting hosed down for answering a question wrong."   
  
"Kenny is a pig fucker," Christophe spat as Pip dug his nails into his legs. He could barely feel it through the thick cotton, but he persisted. "He's following Tweek. Been stuck to him like a fly on shit since he was in charge of the whores. Damien isn't as good to him as Tweek, probably because Damien isn't so fucking high he can't stand on his own. Bunch of fucking assholes, the lot of them."   
  
"Tweek ran a brothel?" Craig asked, horrified. "Like a real honest to God brothel? Tweek can't even remember to wash his fucking hair."  
  
"On paper," Christophe shrugged as he drove. "Tweek mostly just shoved my kids into the closet and demanded we have sex. I'm not shocked he left after me, he always sort of hated it. Not the sex, but the sharing. Kid never learned to share. Watched him beat the fuck out of a john who was knotted against me. Gave him a concussion."   
  
"It's weird you talk about this like it's normal," Craig said slack jaw as Pip rubbed his own neck. "Your family is insane."   
  
"You're not wrong," Christophe shrugged as he pulled into a parking lot. "Now get out and thanks for calling me."   
  
"Yeah," Craig stuttered as he climbed out of the truck, "anytime."  
  
Pip did not slide over to the empty passenger seat as Christophe threw the truck into reverse. It was nice to be touching him, Pip decided as he kept rubbing his own neck. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to give himself a chance to get acclimated to a life with people who cared for him, even if it'd all be ripped away later. All good things were worth losing, right?   
  
He'd adjust. Or he'd jump into a river and drown. 

  
Either way he ought to soak up the proximity to people who seemed to care while he could.   
  
"I haven't opened the results," Christophe said, taking a shaky breath. "I don't want to, but I can tell this is going to be a problem for you."   
  
"You have people," Pip whispered. "I don't have anyone."   
  
"Stop talking like that," Christophe scolded. "You have me and Gregory, and you have Craig. He chased your dumb ass because he cares."   
  
"If the paper says I'm not," Pip gulped, then scratched at his neck. He didn't want to finish the sentence. Was he kicked out if it was a no?   
  
"Don't think it will," Christophe shrugged. "And what are the odds, really? You're name is Phillip, you don't know your parents, and I had a blonde son named Phillip. The odds are in our favor."   
  
"Nothing has ever been in my favor my whole life," Pip said, digging his nails in deeper. "You're going to say I cry too much, or complain I tried to touch your kid, or get bored, and you'll send me back. I'm too old to go back, so I'll just go nowhere. I don't have keys. I've never had keys."   
  
"It's fucked up no one ever gave you house keys," Christophe said as he parked the truck. "Guess shit like that would fuck anyone up." He yanked the keys from the ignition, and opened the door. There were so many keys. Pip just wanted one. He didn't think it was too much to ask to just have one key. "It's time to go in."   
  
Pip followed, marveling as Christophe unlocked the door. He memorized what key went to what house, even though they all looked the same to Pip. Did everyone do that?   
  
"How'd dinner go?" Gregory asked from the couch as Pip followed Christophe inside. "Where on Earth is his shirt? What happened to his shoes? I told you it was a bad idea to take him to have dinner with his abuser. He's in an adjustment period, and having him spend a few hours with a man who raped and impregnated him is not what he needs."   
  
"It went bad," Christophe deadpanned. "Make him a key, before I forget."  
  
"A key? Like to the house? Are you sure he should be coming and going on his own? He doesn't seem to grasp the importance of shoes, so I don't exactly trust him wandering around downtown for an evening stroll." Pip chewed his lip as Christophe went into his bedroom and tossed out another t-shirt, this one a dingy white.   
  
"He lives here, he needs a key," Christophe argued from the other room. "He's already pregnant with his first fucking kid, and no one's ever bothered to give him a goddamn key. It's more a symbol than a fucking tool."   
  
"Fascinating," Gregory hummed as Pip slipped the shirt over his head. He didn't know what could be so fascinating. "I never thought about the question of do you give foster children keys. That's not something that's ever come up in my lectures."   
  
"Well it came up today in the form of a nervous fucking breakdown," Christophe sneered. "He didn't even go inside Damien's apartment. He just cried about fucking keys, but he didn't tell me that was why he was crying, then ran away. Downtown Denver, ten o'clock at night, he goes from crying about keys to throwing my shoes at me as I try to get him into the car."   
  
"I'm sorry," Pip mumbled. "Throwing things is wrong," Pip parroted. He'd had a phase at the group home, between family number three and family number four, where he'd throw books at doors. It always got him in trouble, even if it made him feel better. One of the managers would make him say that in front of all the other kids at dinner, and his cheeks would flush with shame.   
  
"We're nipping this shit in the bud," Christophe hissed as he stomped into the living room, slamming the bedroom door. Pip bit his lip, waiting to be disciplined. Foster parents weren't supposed to hit him, but he was an adult and there were no rules for him now. Christophe could do whatever he wanted.   
  
"I doubt being aggressive is helping the situation," Gregory said as Christophe shoved an envelope into Pip's hands.   
  
"This is the only way I can be right now. Do you have any fucking idea how much fucking stress this sort of shit is? Open it, and just rip the motherfucking band-aid off.   
  
"What if I'm not?" Pip asked as his hands shook. The envelope felt heavy, heavier than a paper envelope should ever logically feel. "Do you take it all back if I'm not?" Pip felt his eyes water as he stared at it. It seemed so innocuous.   
  
"What are you talking about?" Christophe huffed. "Just open it. I know what it's going to say."   
  
"But if I'm not, I have to go, right?" Pip felt fear swim in his belly. "I could not be yours, and it could not be Damien's, and there are no resources and I'll have to go."   
  
"You do not have to go," Gregory said. "I could never with good conscious push a pregnant Omega out of my house and into the elements. I don't believe Christophe could either."   
  
"Just fucking open it!"   
  
"You won't love me if I'm not yours, and then no one will, and it'll be like no one ever did," Pip heaved in a breath. "It'll be like before, and you say I don't have to go, but I didn't think my last family would make me go either. They did though. They made me leave, on my birthday!" Pip gasped for air. "I don't feel good, and I want someone to love me. At least one person. I don't want to go and I don't feel good."   
  
Pip didn't flinch as Christophe ripped the envelop out of his hands.   
  
"Phillip, I need you to try to come sit by me," Gregory called out as Pip hyperventilated. "You're having a panic attack. Sometimes, when people get overwhelmed this happens."   
  
"I know what a fucking panic attack is!" Pip shouted, joining Gregory on the couch as the room swam. "It happens a lot when you know no one in the whole stupid world cares about you." Pip hung his head in his hands and tried to focus his breathing. He was a champ at these, or he had been, before he got comfortable with his last family.   
  
He counted to ten as he inhaled, then to ten as he held it, then ten as he exhaled. He did that over and over, muting out the rest of the room. He didn't think about where he was going to go, or what he was going to do, he just inhaled and exhaled. His first social worker who left, she'd taught him that. Just breathe.   
  
When a paper was placed on his lap, he didn't look down. He still felt sick and dizzy, and he knew not to stop breathing until that feeling had mostly subsided. Normally, he'd try to do this in some sort of make shift nest, surrounded by all his own clothes and blankets, so he could just fall asleep when he was calm enough.   
  
His breath hitched when he realized he didn't have clothing or blankets. He was going to have a baby and he didn't even have clothes for himself. What kind of selfish Dad did that to his kid? He clearly couldn't provide for himself, let alone someone else.   
  
"You should take him to bed," Gregory said softly. "Scent him and help him get to sleep."   
  
"He should calm the fuck down and look at the goddamn paper."   
  
"I don't have to pack this time," Pip whispered with his eyes still closed. "It's okay not to have any clothes, because the you can just leave, no trash bag. Focus on the good things." 

"Trash bag?" Gregory asked, placing a hand on Pip's shoulder.  
  
"When you move, they put your stuff in trash bags. So it can go to your next house," Pip breathed steadily for a few moments, one count of ten in, hold, then out, "sometime's they rip open, but not always. Just usually."   
  
"That's barbaric," Gregory scoffed. "Trash bags?"   
  
"Look at the damn paper!" Christophe shouted. "Look at the big bold 99 at the bottom and chill the fuck out."   
  
"Really?" Pip asked with his eyes shut. "Is this a prank?"   
  
"That'd be a dreadful prank, Phillip," Gregory said as Pip forced his eyes open.   
  
First he looked at Christophe, who was scowling, pointing at the paper, then he looked down. He didn't understand the part in the middle, but the top section had his name and Christophe, Christophe Thorne. Pip briefly wondered where he got his last name from, but the thought left his mind as he skimmed the paper and saw the 99.9999 percent in bold font. 

"You're my dad?" Pip asked, wide eyed. "Really?"   
  
"I told you I was," Christophe snapped. "You didn't trust me. I remember you, even if you don't remember me."   
  
"I'm sorry," Pip whispered, biting at his lip. He could feel his breath get caught in the back of his throat again, but this time Christophe pulled him off the couch and whisked him into bed. "I'm really sorry."   
  
"Stop," Christophe said as he climbed into bed. "Go to sleep. I'm tired, you're tired, and we've obviously had a bad day." Christophe groaned. "I have to call Damien, I promised I would, just try not to cry as I talk."   
  
"I'm not crying," Pip whispered as he resumed his breathing. He didn't let the reality of what just happened sink in, he just focused on breathing.


	25. Chapter 25

When Damien said hello, Christophe started speaking in a foreign language with Damien's voice responding in kind. It wasn't French, Pip frowned. Christophe knew multiple languages. They spoke for a bit, and Pip let himself get lost in the cadence of their voices.   
  
They were his family, he thought idly as he grabbed the hem of Christophe's shirt, worrying it between his fingers as the constants rang around the room. None of the words sounded familiar, except for his name. He'd perk up when he'd hear it, then be lulled back to security until it came back up. It was nice, Pip decided. 

"Don't stop talking," Pip said meekly during a lull in the conversation.   
  
"Phillip" Christophe said, ruffling Pip's hair. " _Mon lapinou, chut."_  
  
"That's French," Pip yawned as Christophe snorted.   
  
"Idiot," Damien said in English through the speaker. He said something else in the other language, then laughed. They spoke back and forth, and Pip gathered the blanket around him, covered his nose. Christophe ran his thumbs underneath Pip's eyes as Damien finished his laugh.  
  
"I don't know those languages," Pip said as Christophe leaned over to give him a kiss on the forehead. "What is a lah-pin-ew?" Christophe howled with laughter, covering his face as Pip squinted, trying to understand what was so funny. "You were talking to me, right? You called me that twice."   
  
"It means rabbit, but a baby," Christophe chuckled. "I always called your father  _mon lapin,_ so it became your nickname." Pip frowned knowing his nickname was related to Tweek. Tweek hated him.  
  
"If you think your nickname is shitty," Damien chimed in through the phone, "at least you didn't spend your childhood as  _parazit_ after Tweek named you after the scary kid from The Omen." Pip frowned as Damien finished it with a laugh. That didn't sound funny to him.  
  
"That must have hurt your feelings," Pip said softly as Christophe leaned the phone closer.   
  
"I'm putting you on speaker," Christophe announced before fumbling with the screen. "I guess we're talking feelings now. Yippie."   
  
"I've never seen The Omen," Pip said. "But my teachers said I had the same name as a character from a book, did you know that?" Pip pulled the blanket down, and stared at the phone.  
  
"Yeah, a shitty Dickens story, I had a phase. Christ," Damien snorted. "My third grade teacher sent me home for the summer with a book, and I read an abridge version Great Expectations constantly. The boss pulled me out halfway through fourth, so I just kept rereading the same book. " Pip couldn't imagine dropping out during fourth grade.   
  
"When he begged me to name you Phillip, I didn't understand, because I fucking hate horses and he'd never even seen one up close," Christophe chuckled. "I did it anyway, so he won. He usually won."    
  
"You have actual stories about me," Pip wondered aloud. "Like, I actually," Pip paused, trying to find the words, "I existed before. I had a whole life."   
  
"It was garbage," Damien cut in. "You didn't miss anything good. Your life was like, wake up, hope Tweek remembered to feed us, pal around a whorehouse with your big brother, don't get yelled at by Christophe, and don't let the johns grab you. That's what we did."   
  
"It was the worst," Christophe groaned. "You are good, and Damien is good, and Tweek is probably good, but the rest of it can burn."   
  
"Tweek is not good," Damien argued. "He's a rapist and a drug addict."   
  
"Get off that high horse before it bucks you," Christophe growled. "I doubt Phillip thinks your good." There was a pause in the conversation and Christophe looked at Pip expectantly.   
  
"I, uh, I don't know what I think," Pip whispered, bunching the blanket in his fists. "Most people aren't bad. Tweek might be."   
  
"Even Pip hates Tweek!" Damien shouted. "See, he's on my side. You had a good thing going, and your sister liked you, and then Tweek raped you and ruined it."   
  
"You say the word rape a lot for a guy who kidnaps strange Omegas when they're in heat," Christophe snapped.   
  
"I wasn't a stranger," Pip said, cocking his head as he sat up. "And I don't hate Tweek, I mean, maybe I do. I don't know. It's a lot."   
  
"You were a stranger," Christophe argued. "Knowing him as your brother before doesn't mean he wasn't a stranger."   
  
"He came to my school my sophomore year," Pip argued. "He was really nice, and I laughed with him. Then I got to ride in the front seat of his car, and he made me feel special. I really liked him, and then I told my foster family and they made me dump him, because he was too old." Pip frowned. "He didn't really like me, anyways."   
  
"You went to a high school looking for a date," Christophe deadpanned. "Are you fucking serious? You literally have an all you can eat buffet at that hotel, and you went to a high school to look for children? What the hell is wrong with you?"   
  
He did have a point.  
  
"I was not looking for me," Damien stuttered as he defended himself, tripping over the words. "I was looking for a client, and I had information from his foster care file that described him as overtly sexual. Then I assessed that Pip would not be a good fit."   
  
Pip had never heard that he was sexual. No social worker ever told him that. Damien must have had the wrong file.  
  
"I've said it a thousand times," Christophe snapped, "and you'll never listen to me, but you should leave. You should fucking quit and let Kenny run the whole shit show into the ground. It's a fucking bullshit job, you can come work with me, and figure something else out."   
  
"She would hate that," Damien said softly. "I think she'd stop talking to me. She didn't even look for Tweek when he ran off. Never asks about him, or anything. You and Tweek and Pip don't exist to her."   
  
"She's a cunt."   
  
"You should have a job that makes you happy," Pip said as Christophe fumed. "Alphas are supposed to be happy."   
  
"You should have a job that allows you to sleep at night," Christophe seethed. "Your seventeen year old brother is pregnant and it's all your fault."   
  
"It takes two," Pip whispered. "Two people make a baby."   
  
"No, that's a bunch of bullshit. One person is perfectly capable of making a child all on their fucking own using a host and both of you are fucking proof," Christophe spat. "Don't you dare think you, in heat, said hey, I want to make a baby, and that's a real thing. It's not."   
  
"I apologized, I'll pay for the abortion, and we can move on with our lives. Fuck, can we talk about something else?"   
  
"I don't think I want that," Pip said as he reached for Christophe's arm. "That's not what I want." Christophe nodded, then put a finger to his lips.  
  
"Of course, you the little fucking narc, wouldn't want us to have a happy conversation for ten goddamn minutes, would you?" Damien spat.   
  
"He doesn't want a fucking abortion, and I'm not gonna tie him up and let your goddamn back alley guy murder him," Christophe roared. "You, you of all people on this shitty planet should know that Omegas don't just move on from this bullshit. You're gonna pay for it, and we can tell it you're it's fucking uncle, if that's what you want, but I'm not making him do shit."   
  
"What in the Hell is Pip going to do with a baby?" Damien asked. "Like honestly, Phillip. What the hell is your plan?"   
  
Pip opened his mouth to respond, but a finger was placed over his lips.   
  
"We are working on it," Christophe said through gritted teeth. "There are other more pressing matters than his fucking parenting strategy. You're lucky he even wants to talk to you. If I saw your dad, I'd just punch him right in the fucking mouth, maybe even get a gun to shoot him. You're going to become just like him, if you're not careful, a serial predator."    
  
"I think you're hurting his feelings," Pip said after some tense silence. "I don't think we should hurt each other on purpose."   
  
"You sure he's related to us?" Damien laughed. Pip sharply inhaled, as a pit of dread expanded in his chest.   
  
"Don't joke about that," Christophe scolded. "He spent like an hour panicking about it. He's pregnant and isn't rational."   
  
"He cried outside my door because he was afraid to see me," Damien said, as Christophe's face went sour. "He's dramatic as fuck."   
  
"That's not even why he was crying," Christophe said, then chuckled. "He was upset or amazed, or disappointed, I don't fucking know, maybe Phillip can tell you."   
  
"Christophe, I mean Dad," Pip said with a shaky smile as Christophe looked back wide eyed. "Dad had your key, and his own key. And I was like, wow, that's a lot of keys to houses, and then I got sad because I don't have any."   
  
"I will mint you a key to my apartment," Damien said. "I'll have it next Sunday, at dinner."   
  
"Really?" Pip asked as a small smile lit up Christophe's face. "My own key? I'll have two keys?"   
  
"Yeah, two keys. I'll copy you a key to ever room in the damn hotel if it'll make you happy," Damien snorted. "Look, it's late. I'm sure my morning is going to be full of all sorts of bullshit."   
  
"God, don't remind me," Christophe groaned. "High of goddamn 94. I'm already sweating like a hog."   
  
"You want me to be happy?" Pip asked, tugging on Christophe's arm.   
  
"No, I want my little brother to be miserable," Damien droned. "Of course I want you to be happy. Are you stupid?"   
  
"No," Pip hesitated. "I just," Pip paused. "I'm sort of stupid, I guess."   
  
"You shouldn't say shit like that," Damien snapped as Christophe rubbed Pip's hand. "You're seventeen, not stupid. They're different. Look, I have shit to do, good night Pip."   
  
They chatted back and forth for a few more minutes in the language that wasn't French, and Pip watched as Christophe's face screwed up in anger, then relaxed, only for all of him to flare red. 


	26. Chapter 26

"Phillip?" Gregory asked, knocking on the door to the shared bathroom. "ETA?"  
  
"I'm dying," Pip whispered as he wiped his hand with the back of his mouth. "I don't think I can throw up anymore."   
  
"You're not dying," Gregory clucked his tongue as the door creaked open. "But vomiting is not good." Pip nodded, letting his forehead rest against the toilet seat as his hands propped him up on either side. "I can make you some soup, if you'd like. After I use the lavatory."   
  
Pip briefly thought about just telling him to piss in the sink, like Christophe did two nights ago when he couldn't keep anything down. He thought better, forcing himself to straighten up and crawled out of the bathroom on his hands and knees, careful not to bump against Gregory's legs.   
  
"You seem fairly pathetic," Gregory grimaced. "I'm sure this floor is filthy."   
  
"If the vomiting doesn't kill me, then the floor won't," Pip argued, propping himself up against the wall. "I want beans, I think."   
  
"Lord above, you've just finished vomiting, and you want baked beans," Gregory chuckled as he shut the door. "If that's what you want before I leave for class, then so be it."   
  
"And your special tea?" Pip asked as the door closed. "With extra sugar?" Pip tried to ignore the vertigo he felt as he forced himself to the living room. The couch would be more comfortable, he was certain. He watched Gregory's documentary on the world bank as he pulled a throw over his body. He patted his stomach gently, then sighed. "You need to stop making me sick."   
  
"Agreed," Gregory chimed in as he placed a wet hand on Pip's forehead. "No fever, but it's unfortunate that you feel so poorly."   
  
"I guess the baby doesn't care," Pip laughed, tapping his stomach again. "Do you think Dad got sick?" Pip wasn't sure if he was supposed to be calling Christophe dad or Christophe, but he'd always wanted to call someone Dad.   
  
"You can ask him," Gregory hummed. "Getting sick is normal. I'll sit with you before class, then you can take a nap until one of us gets home."  
  
"It'll be late," Pip sighed. "Does he always work so much?"   
  
"We're a couple of workaholics, truth be told," Gregory laughed. "Though I am enjoying a break from sixty hour work weeks coupled with evening classes."   
  
"I'm sorry you lost your job," Pip mumbled, tapping his stomach again. When was he supposed to be able to feel them? Would he know it was them kicking him?  
  
"I have an interview with a hospice center." Gregory said as he waltzed into the kitchen. Pip contorted his body to have a clear line of sight as Gregory put a kettle on the stove.  
  
"I promise I'll help you," Pip said guilty as Gregory cranked a can opener. "When I feel well, I will do the housework. I promise."   
  
"When you feel well, you'll take your GED test," Gregory grinned as he poured a can on beans into the a bowl and popped it in the microwave. "There's nothing wrong with letting another person take care of you for a few days. You're still not a hundred percent."   
  
"My chest feels fine," Pip said as he sank back into the couch. It was a comfortable couch, he decided. He felt like he'd sat on his fair share of couches, and this one, with it's worn brown leather, was one of the better ones he'd sat on.   
  
"It feels fine because you've been resting," Gregory says. "Just rest, and I'll make your tea."   
  
"You're really nice, you know," Pip huffed as he wedged a pillow behind himself.   
  
"That's why I was a prefect at boarding school, then head boy," Gregory laughed. "Everyone came to me with their problems, and then I graduated and wanted it to go on forever."   
  
"Helping people is nice," Pip said, running his wrists over his neck. Christophe had been gone for too long, and all of the scent from the morning had been replaced with bile. Gregory approached with a mug of tea and the warm bowl, placing them in Pip's hands.  
  
"You could be a social worker," Gregory smiled. "I think it'd suit you. Loads of former foster kids go on to work within the system. Or you could work in palliative care, or in the hospital. School counselors are social workers."   
  
"I thought I was going to get married," Pip said as he placed the bowl on his stomach. Did the baby feel the warmth from the ceramic? Was he hurting it? He moved the bowl to the side table, just in case. "I need something I can do now, right?"   
  
"Well," Gregory clinked a spoon around his mug as he sat next to Pip, "you could get an entry level job, and just figure it out from there. Have you ever had a job before?"   
  
"I sold snow cones last summer," Pip said as he sipped his ginger tea. "The owner invited me back, but I doubt he'd take me now."   
  
"He might," Gregory said as he drained his cup.   
  
"I didn't make that much money," Pip sighed.  "Babies cost a lot, right?   
  
"I can pull up some figures on my laptop, if you want. Just averages for the city. Or we could relax and learn about the monetary system." Gregory pointed at the television, then fumbled for the remote. He unmuted it and a dull English man droned on about different standards, gold versus silver, and something called block chain.   
  
"Is it going to be okay though?" Pip asked as he poked at his food. "Like, am I going to be able to do it?"   
  
"Are you scared?" Gregory asked as he turned the volume down. "I suppose you'd be daft not to be terrified, but do you want to talk about what you're scared of?"   
  
"It's stupid," Pip spoke with his mouth full.   
  
"I doubt it is," Gregory argued, kicking his feet onto the coffee table. "And, on the oft chance it is actually stupid, you can say it and get it out of your system."   
  
Pip hesitated as he took another bite. Gregory made a lot of good points, he found. Like the other day, after he'd come back with no shoes with Christophe, Gregory had pointed out that by tossing shoes at Christophe, he was really just hurting himself, because he might have to walk home barefoot. He then went on to ask if Pip often hurt himself like that, and he wasn't sure how to answer.  
  
"Don't laugh," Pip said as he swallowed.  
  
"Never," Gregory swore as he placed his tea down.   
  
"I just," Pip inhaled, trying to steady himself, "if I can't do it, and they have to go into care, that'd be awful. And what if then they're about to go to college, but then can't because their foster parents kick them out, and what if I'm not there to help them? What if they're here and I can't do it?"   
  
"Well, you know you have options," Gregory started, letting his hand hover over Pip's shoulder before gently touching him. "But maybe I could borrow a couple parenting books from the library. You could get a feel for what might happen, at least in a vague sense, and then that might help you feel like you have a little more power."   
  
"Sorry, it was dumb to bring up," Pip said as he finished the last of his food.   
  
"No, it wasn't," Gregory removed his hand and sighed. "Expectant parents in the best situation have doubts, and you certainly are not in the best situation."   
  
Pip didn't argue, even though all things considered, being on a nice couch in an air conditioned building with a full belly seemed a bit like hitting the lottery. He had parents, and at least one loved him, which was more than he'd had before. And Damien wanted him to be happy, he remembered as he scraped the bottom of the bowl.   
  
"I think Christophe understands that you are woefully ill equipped to have a baby," Gregory said as he patted Pip's leg. "And I assume that the babies father is also aware of this, if he's as old as Christophe says he is."   
  
"Is he their dad?" Pip asked as he willed himself to loosen up. "I mean, I know he probably is because of heat cycles and that," Pip's checks burned as he talked about heat cycles with an older Alpha. "What I mean is, is that the top relationship?"   
  
"Clarify what you're asking me," Gregory said. "I don't want to put words into your mouth while you're processing difficult information."   
  
"One of my foster families referred to each other as best friends, but they were married, and at least to me, it seems like if there's like a hierarchy, that husband and wife and the most important, not best friends. Like if you only got one label to describe the relationship."   
  
"If you're asking me what label you should use for him, what is his name again?" Gregory paused and looked at Pip expectantly.   
  
"Damien. Like The Omen." Pip smiled, "And I'm Phillip, like the book."   
  
"The fact that your father allowed you to be named after a story about an orphan, and someone coached you into telling a social worker that your last name was Pirrup, blows my mind," Gregory laughed. "Though I expect something stupid out of a teenage boy. Damien," Gregory said, regaining his composure.  "I can't tell you what label is most important for Damien. That's for you to decide."   
  
"But what would you do?" Pip asked, chewing his lip as he pulled the blanket around himself.   
  
"I don't know in the slightest," Gregory admitted. "But I know that you have a community of people who aren't going to allow you to flounder alone."   
  
"But what if I don't." Pip spoke it before he could even fully form the thought. It was always in the back of his mind, what if something went wrong, but he'd always avoided bringing it up to social workers. It was seen as being a handful. No one liked a handful. "Like," Pip continued as Gregory sat in silence, "for instance, what if all of you died, what would I do then?"   
  
"Well, you'd grieve, I assume," Gregory said thoughtfully, "but I imagine you'd probably physically have a baby by that point, and you'd qualify for different government programs by nature of your parenthood. But the likelihood of us all dying in secession seems very minuscule, like getting bit by a shark and struck by lighting simultaneously."   
  
Pip was taken aback that Gregory actually bothered to answer his question. Usually those sort of questions were met with a frown and a notation in his file. He never got to read those notations. Did he make all of those social workers angry?  
  
"Can you get my files?" Pip asked. "I mean, would you?" It didn't matter if Gregory was capable if he wasn't willing.   
  
"No," Gregory said, "but you could. It's a form and a photocopy of your id, then they redact anything that has to be redacted, and you can have a copy of everything."   
  
"Really? They'd just give that stuff to me?"   
  
"Yes. I don't suggest you go through your files in your current state, but I can't control what you do." Gregory shrugged, then grabbed the remote.   
  
"But will you read them?" Pip asked before he could turn the volume back up. "And maybe tell me about the parts where I have questions? When I asked my case workers questions like what if they died, they never answered, but they always wrote something down. I just want to know what they were thinking."   
  
"My assumption is they were making a notation of the beginnings of an anxiety disorder, and thought, because you were young, that engaging with the fear would be unproductive." Gregory let the remote fall to the arm of the couch and shifted so his body faced Pip. "Letting someone else read your case files is a big deal. It's going to have a lot of personal information, some you might not even realize. By it's very nature, it's embarrassing."   
  
"Will you laugh at me?" Pip wondered aloud. "If you aren't laughing at me now, I don't really think you'll do it later."   
  
"It wouldn't be helpful for me to poke fun at you. You've obviously had some fairly significant trauma," Gregory sighed, as he looked Pip up and down. Instinctively, Pip pulled the blanket closer to himself. "If you want me to, I'll do it. It's no trouble to read some paperwork, might even help with my masters."   
  
"That's a lot of school." That was more school than Pip ever thought he'd do, and certainly more than he'd ever do now.  
  
"I quiet like it," Gregory grinned. "Do you like school?"   
  
"Uh huh," Pip nodded enthusiastically. "School was always a good place. No one yells at you in school, or ignores you. The teachers don't, sometimes my classmates did, but I never really expected them to like me anyways. My teachers all seemed to really like me." The possibility that Pip was too stupid to pick up on their general distaste for him had crossed his mind on more than one occasion, but he'd always chose to ignore it. "I wasn't a great student, but when I was in grade school, they'd check in and see if I was okay. Ask me how my house was, that sort of thing."   
  
"Did you get yelled at a lot?" Gregory asked. Pip just shrugged. How much yelling was a lot of yelling? He didn't have a sound metric to go by, so he didn't want to say. "Did you run away often? I had a professor in undergrad who spoke about foster care fairly regularly, and he said that was a common occurrence."   
  
"Where would I run to?" Pip asked. "The other kids ran sometimes. But I didn't have any other parents, so there wasn't a real place to run. All I knew is that I came on a plane from England to America, and that my dad would pick me up at the airport. When he didn't, I didn't have anyone else to run to."   
  
"That's a bizarre story," Gregory pushed. "I'd be interested in seeing the case files from the first encounter you had with a social worker. Those might be telling as to what actually happened."   
  
"I always thought I was British," Pip snorted. "I used to look up British slang in the computer lab, then try to use it in daily conversation. I called cookies biscuits for all of middle school."   
  
"First off," Gregory grinned, "they are biscuits." Pip laughed with him, even though he felt stupid. "Secondly, everyone looks back at secondary school and cringes. I once smacked a lad in the mouth because he said Blur was better than Oasis."   
  
"Who is that?" Pip asked, still smiling. "I can't see you hurting anyone." Pip curled and uncurled his toes as he adjusted the pillow behind his back. Maybe all Alphas had a propensity for violence.   
  
"Oasis is the best band to come out of Britain in the 90s, and Blur is not the best band," Gregory said as he finally turned the volume back up on his documentary. "I'm going to restart this, if that's alright with you."   
  
Pip nodded, though he secretly wanted to go listen to Oasis and Blur, just so he'd have more to talk about with Gregory. He stretched out, angling his feet away from Gregory, as the video restarted, and the same boring man introduced concepts Pip found both dull and fantastical. It was like someone sitting down and explaining that unicorns existed, and then going into the minutia of their socioeconomic tax brackets. Pip was certain he'd heard the man say that phrase, or maybe he said them separately. On any account, Pip was not used to new information being so incredibly dry.   
  
By the ten minute mark, somehow Pip had found himself snuggled against Gregory, and he was asleep, drool dripping on Gregory's chest, before they even made it back to gold standards. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave me a comment telling me your thoughts.


End file.
